#just my thoughts and feelings turned into a story

[no-blastbeat-no-applause]

A little while ago I wrote a little something about that. I just finished translating it into english. Here are my thoughts:

Wimp

Thoughts on the patriarchy and why this crap sucks for men too

Queen Energy

I mindlessly let Instagram videos wash over my mind. A sketch wakes me from my pleasant torpor:

A woman dressed in a negligee talks to her husband. She orders him to have sex with her immediately. He says he is tired, he has just come home from work. He doesn't feel like it either. She is not interested. She becomes more direct and aggressive in her statements and demands. All of this culminates in her forcibly shoving a cookie into his mouth, repeating her order and expectantly marching off towards the bedroom.

The comment column is rolling with laughter, congratulates the woman and agrees with her demands. The comments reads something like:

"Her story, her rules, her empire." "Queen energy! This is the vibe we all need!" "Taking what's hers like it was always meant to be"

She should take what she needs; her husband should be a real guy and get it for his wife if and when she wants it.

So the point is: he's a wimp if he doesn't put himself and his needs first. He's not a real man because he doesn't jump when his wife is in the mood.

Let's imagine the gender roles reversed. A man comes home and tells his wife to wait for him naked in the bedroom because he wants to have sex. Regardless of her wishes and desires. Most people would find this behavior unacceptable. And rightly so.

Here though, sexual harassment is portrayed as a joke. Neither the producers nor the recipients seem to be fazed by this.

Such scenes suggest that men always have to be ready and willing. This stereotypical expectation completely ignores the fact that men are also people with boundaries who want to say "yes" or "no". However, in our society - as the comments column impressively shows - they are often denied this choice. Men are not even given the opportunity to prioritize their own wishes because their "yes" is taken for granted. If they do try to set boundaries, they are met with a lack of understanding, rejection, ridicule or even violence. This creates a burden that is subtle but always present.

The video and its comments make fun of a man whose freedom of choice over his own body has been taken away, making him yet another victim of patriarchy and toxic masculinity.

First naked and then alone in the corridor

I was 12 when my mother drove me and my ten-year-old sister to our pediatrician. Everything started as business as usual. The doctor asked us general questions, she took our blood pressure and did what doctors do.

Then something happened that I still remember vividly today. As a burgeoning teenager, I had to get naked from the wais down and lie down on a couch to be examined. My mother and sister both stayed in the room. I was embarrassed. I found it downright agonizing.

The doctor plucked at my penis for several minutes. I didn't know where to look. My face turned bright red and my hands got wet. I was suddenly terribly aware of how my kneecaps felt under my skin.

Then it was finally over.

But now it became particularly irritating: it was my sister's turn. She was facing something similar - with one important difference. I was asked to leave.

Don't get me wrong, I had no interest in participating in my sister's gynecological exam. I just wished that the same consideration had been given to me, a little boy.

My feelings were not ignored, no. No one here had even bothered to take an interest in whether I had any. I was treated with the same respect as the couch in the treatment room. The question of my dignity was about as important as that of the desk.

But that was nothing new for a 12-year-old. After all, I learned to swallow my feelings before I even started elementary school.

"Are you a man or a mouse"?

Of course I'm a man, I'm already four! I suppress every feeling that my environment deems too much or inappropriate.

I've learned that „Indians don't cry.“* Neither do boys. I'm not supposed to make such a fuss and pull myself together.

It eats into your brain. It stays. For almost 40 years and it's still there.

How my tongue got bitten

My aunt was celebrating her sixtieth birthday. The whole thing ended in her favorite pub. We danced, sang, drank and enjoyed ourselves. I chatted with old acquaintances on the edge of the dance floor.

Suddenly, a woman snuck up on me. She started to dance at me aggressively. I found it quite flattering at first. The stranger danced very closely with me, focusing only on me. She made me feel wanted.

But after a while I became uncomfortable. She took it for granted that I would return her advances. She waited for me in front of the toilet. She gave me no opportunity to move without her. She put her arms around me and kissed me on the dance floor.

I didn't want to be seen like this by my family. It was impossible to talk to my friends, my aunt was at the other end of the pub. I told the stranger that I wanted to talk to my family, but she wouldn't let go of me. I spoke to friends, but she pushed her way in.

I could have said "No!" at any time, walked away and enjoyed my evening, sure. But I have internalized the lessons of my youth: my feelings are not important and I have to make my body available, regardless of my own wishes.

I only plucked up the courage to tear myself away when the stranger bit my tongue painfully, because: I didn't kiss her the way she wanted me to.

But even then, at the end of the night, my "No, I don't want that anymore" was met with a complete lack of understanding. She was offended that I was not responding to her wishes. She had never cared about my consensus or my needs.

I was now in a similar role to the man in the sketch: my feelings were put on the back burner in order to offer a woman what she wanted at that moment.

Neither the lady in the sketch nor the stranger at the pub inquired about the wishes of the men in question. None of them asked for consensus. None of them took what they were explicitly told seriously, because they, like all of us, have internalized these toxic patterns of thought and behaviour.

As a farewell, I got a contemptuous "wimp" shouted after me.

And why all this?

I am well aware that the people who suffer most from patriarchy are, of course, those who do not appear traditionally male to society. Women, intersex and trans people, all non-cis-hetero men, should by no means be ignored here. My perspective, however, is that of a cis-het man.

We men are taught that our feelings are not important. We have to be tough and endure instead of being vulnerable and talking openly about our needs. Our bodies are common property. We learn to accept assault and laugh it off.

• The woman in the negligee wants sex? Then go ahead! No matter what the man wants.

• The boy is ashamed to be looked at naked by three women? He shouldn't behave like that!

• A stranger decides you're her plaything this night? Fuck your wishes and your family!

If we don't conform to the norms, we are wimps. We are considered unmanly. We're not real guys.

We need to recognize the harmful influence of sexism on men.

While patriarchy generally privileges men, it also subjects us to restrictive gender roles that harm us.

Even those who are considered the most powerful in the patriarchal hierarchy suffer from it.

The supposed masters turn themselves into the oppressed.

Toxic masculinity harms us and everyone around us.

Sometimes I do wonder if men actually get sexually assaulted and abused at a similar rate that women do but a lot of them just don’t know that’s what’s happening to them

[rafesbabygirlx]

can you do something with Rafe and a very naive reader who doesn’t know when a guy is flirting with her and she’s just super friendly? like rafe will get confrontational and possessive but he’s never mean to his girl because she doesn’t know any better and he drags her out of the bar angrily but then is super sweet to her and they have car sex and maybe like the guy walks by and sees them and Rafe smirks at him through the window.

Pleaseeeeeeeeeee??????

Oooooff YES

I feel like I might get a little carried away with this one (I just finished and yes... it is long lol)

𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝚋𝚏!𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐)

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

The bar was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. You were seated in a booth with Rafe, Kelce, Topper, and a few of your girlfriends, all of you were caught up in conversation, shouting over the music. Between stories and bursts of laughter, you finally glanced down and realized your glass was nearly empty.

Slipping away from the table, you made your way toward the bar, leaning in slightly to get the bartender’s attention.

“Vodka soda, please,” you ordered.

As you waited, you felt someone step up beside you. You turned slightly and saw a tall brunette guy—broad shoulders, sharp features, a confident stance.

“You here with anyone?” he asked casually, his voice smooth but loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Yeah,” you nodded, gesturing over my shoulder toward my group. 

You didn’t think anything of it, but he moved a little closer, resting his elbow on the bar. “Nice. You come here often?”

You shook my head. “Not really, just whenever my friends want to. What about you?”

“Every now and then,” he shrugged. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“y/n.”

The bartender slid your drink over, and you picked it up, but you didn’t rush back to the table. Eric was easy to talk to, and after all, it was just casual conversation.

“So, y/n, what do you do?” he asked, taking a sip from his own drink.

“I’m a senior in college,” you said. “Studying fashion.”

His eyebrows lifted with interest. “That’s cool. So you’re into fashion?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

He smirked. “Alright, be honest—do I look like I know anything about fashion?”

You gave him a once-over, eyeing his fitted black t-shirt and well-worn jeans. “You’re doing alright,” you teased. “No major offenses.”

“Good to know. I’d hate to be a walking fashion crime.” He leaned in slightly. “So, what’s the dream job?”

You hesitated for a second, taking a sip of your drink. “Marketing for a fashion brand, something creative. I love the behind-the-scenes of campaigns and branding.”

“That actually sounds really interesting,” he said, nodding. “Ever thought about starting your own thing?”

“I mean, maybe one day,” you admitted. “I’d want to work somewhere first, really get the experience before diving into anything myself.”

“That’s smart.” He tilted his glass toward me. “To future success, then.”

I clinked my drink against his, smiling. “To future success.”

“y/n.”

The sound of my name in a familiar voice made me turn, and there was Rafe, standing just a few feet away, watching the conversation unfold. His expression was unreadable, but his sharp blue eyes were locked on Eric.

afe walked up behind you, placing a hand on your waist. "Oh hi, Rafey!" you greeted, wrapping your arm around his waist as he moved in close to you.

"And who's this?" Rafe asked, his tone even but laced with something unreadable.

"This is Eric," you said casually. "We just started talking. He's really nice. We should hang out with him."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, is he now?"

"Yeah, he is."

Rafe’s gaze didn’t shift from Eric as he spoke. "And what have you and my girlfriend been talking about exactly?"

Eric shifted uncomfortably under Rafe’s stare. "Look, man, she didn’t say she had a boyfriend."

Rafe let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, so it's her fault you're a creep?"

"Rafe, we were just talking, I don’t understand," you said, your grip around his waist tightening as you started to feel nervous.

But Rafe broke your hold, moving around to the other side of you, stepping directly in front of Eric. His presence alone made Eric take a step back.

"Listen, man," Rafe said, his voice low and firm. "I watched the whole interaction. You saw her with a group, you saw her ring, and you still thought you had a shot?" He leaned in slightly, his jaw tight. "Next time, when a girl gives you a polite response, take the hint and walk away."

Eric put his hands up. "Dude, I didn’t mean anything—"

"Did I say you could talk?" Rafe cut him off, his voice steady but dangerous.

Eric glanced between you and Rafe, clearly realizing he was outmatched. "Alright, man. Chill. I was just being friendly."

"Then be friendly somewhere else, before I make you regret it," Rafe said coldly, taking a step closer, forcing Eric to back away further.

Eric muttered something under his breath before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Rafe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Then he looked down at you, his expression softening slightly. "You okay?"

You nodded, still processing the sudden shift in energy. "Yeah. Rafe, that was—"

"He was too close," Rafe interrupted, sliding an arm back around your waist protectively. "And I don’t like people thinking they can just walk up on you like that."

You sighed, resting your head briefly against his shoulder. "Let’s just go, okay?"

Rafe nodded, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head. "Yeah, let’s go."

With his arm still around you, he led you back through the bar, his grip just a little tighter than before.

Rafe tossed you gently into the back seat, sliding in right after you. His eyes were dark, filled with something unreadable.

"You're too sweet for your own good, baby," he murmured before crashing his lips against yours.

You pulled away slightly, breathless. "I don't know what you mean."

He exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. "You see the good in everyone. So much so that you don’t even realize how he was coming onto you. I’m not mad at you, you don’t know any better, but he was taking advantage of your kindness. Thinking he could have you. Take you away from me."

You frowned. "No, Rafe, he wasn’t. He was just being nice."

You let out a small laugh, but Rafe’s hand was suddenly on your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. Your smile faded when you saw the seriousness in his eyes.

"See what I mean?" he muttered.

You swallowed. "No, Rafe, I don’t. Why can't someone just be nice?"

His jaw clenched. "It’s the actions, baby. He was no good."

You sighed, shaking your head. "Whatever you s—"

Before you could finish, Rafe leaned in again, kissing you deeply, possessively. His hands gripped your waist as if grounding himself in you.

"Show me who you belong to," he whispered against your lips, pushing you down to the car floor.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he unbuckles his pants. You stare up at him with those big sweet doe eyes of yours and grab a hold of him once he's free, peppering kisses on his tip. Rafe throws his head back once you lower your mouth on him.

"Fuck- just like that," he speaks through gritted teeth.

You bob your head up down, taking in as much of him as you can. He moans at how good you make him feel. But in a split second, the vision of - that guy- all over you pisses him off and he grabs the back of your head and begins to buck up his hips jamming himself into the back of your throat. He doesn't mean to take his anger out on you, his sweet girl, but that shit really pissed him off.

You gag on him and grip onto his thighs, trying to breathe through your nose as best you can. Rafe thrusts a few more times before releasing himself from your mouth. He lets you catch your breath for a second before lifting you back onto the seat and laying you down.

He bunches up your dress around your waist and pulls down your underwear, tossing them into the front seat. He puts his thumb in his mouth getting it wet and brings it to your clit, rubbing it softly. You buck up at the feeling but Rafe grabs your waist and pushes you back down.

"Baby, you are the sweetest girl I know," Rafe murmured while not letting up from your clit.

You moan at his sweet words.

"You mean everything to me. No man could ever take you away from me. You’re mine."

You find it hard to speak, but need to let him know. "Rafe, I’m always yours. You know that."

His grip on your waist tightened. "I know, but I don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance. I love you too much for that."

You smiled, placing a hand on his chest. "I love you too. Always."

Rafe sighed, leaning down to you for a deep kiss. "Good. Because I don’t plan on ever letting you go."

He moves down and attaches his mouth to you. Swirling his tongue around your clit, replacing his finger. He then sucks on it and you put your arm over your mouth to let out a loud moan into it, considering you're in the middle of a parking lot. Rafe puts a stop to that quickly.

"Let me hear you, no one's around." He smirks up at you and you smile back.

He continues to eat you out before moving up and pushing his pants down more and lining up to your entrance. Wasting no time in wanting to be inside you. He slowly pushes in and you throw your head back into the leather seat. Rafe doesn't take a second to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into you.

He sets a relentless pace, his motivation- that asshole back in the bar and loving the way you squirm beneath him. After a few moments, there is chatter outside the car, you panic but Rafe doesn't let up. Someone comes by the window to the car next to Rafe's. You can't hold back your moans and go to move your hand, but Rafe pins both of them over your head.

Rafe notices that familiar face to be Eric. He's nosy and moves over to the window to see what the faint noises are. Rafe stares at him through it and smirks wickedly.

"Wanna come, sweet girl?"

"Yes," you cry out and let out a loud moan signaling your end.

Rafe continues to fuck you through your orgasm, finding his own coming deep inside you, all while that dipshit from inside stands and watches like the creep Rafe knew he was.

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[toonice113]

Paper rings ᥫ᭡ Q. Hughes

Part one of three of my valentine series

Part two: False god - M.Barzal

Part three: Lover - N.Hischier

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Moments of your relationship with Quinn who you love so much you would marry even if he proposed with paper rings.

Warnings: mentions of weed, mentions of drinking, not proofread

Word count: 3.8k (counting the lyrics)

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚ I’m so excited for my first of three Valentine’s day series, hope you enjoy my first ever Quinn story and if you’re reading this go vote on the poll for what the other two stories should be!

The moon is high like your friends were the night that we first met went home and tried to stalk you on the internet now I've read all of the books beside your bed

You’d heard about Quinn Hughes before, how could you not when your friend group was also his friend group? But having transferred to the University of Michigan during your Junior year meant you had just missed meeting him as he had left for Vancouver the semester prior. Tonight however, you were meeting the infamous Quinn as he was in town visiting and you had been invited to the night out. You and a few other friends had decided to start the night bar hopping while the rest of the group opted for meeting you at the final bar, and that’s how you found yourself slightly intoxicated, you were responsible enough to only drink a little at each bar not wanting to be wasted before you met the rest of the group, at The Smoked Hut finally reuniting with all your friends, one of them, clearly high indicated by the red of his eyes and his notably more relaxed mood that you knew only came after he smoke a little, finally introduced you to Quinn and from the moment you saw him you were smitten, the rest of the night only solidified your little crush as you basked in his easy going personality and warm smile. That night back in your apartment the first thing you did was google him, finding out about his brothers, his parents, his hockey career and even what his favorite books were, feeling like a stalker you sighed closing the tabs and turning your laptop off before quickly turning it back on and ordering one of the books he had mentioned rationalizing the purchase with the thought of your goal for this year being to read more.

The wine is cold like the shoulder that I gave you in the street cat and mouse for a month or two or three now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

“You know, I was thinking” Quinn says closing his book from his spot next to me in ou bed “Back when we first met, the first night I thought ‘wow that is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen’”

“Mmm did you really?” You hum closing your laptop deciding you’re done with work for the night 

“Yeah I did, and then we had this great night with friends” He brushes a strand of hair off my face

“James made it great with his rendition of it’s all coming back to me now” You interrupt him with a laugh, he chuckles with you 

“The full version not the radio one” He adds “But then the next time I visited you didn’t even look at me twice, you said hi and that was it and I thought you hated me”

“I didn’t hate you” You tell him “On the contrary I had a huge crush on you and I thought if I spoke to you I would only embarrass myself” 

“So what changed your mind when you all came to visit?” You think back to the trip your friend group made to vancouver, you’d stayed for a couple of days and caught one of Quinn’s games

“Elena, she had just gotten with her boyfriend at the time and it all started because she took initiative, so I thought if she could do it so could I” You tell him about your roommate 

“And so you came to Vancouver, wore my jersey and made me fall in love with you” Quinn smiles at you 

“Well, no” You shake your head “If I remember correctly I tried flirting with you and you shot me down so I decided to give up on it all” 

“I didn’t shot you down” You raise your eyebrows at him “You just made me nervous, but I made it up to you the next time I saw you” He did, the next time he visited Michigan he finally asked you out on a date and a couple weeks later, even though you were in different countries you started a long distance relationship that followed you through college until now, here where you laid in Quinn’s arms in your shared apartment in Vancouver.

Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright three times 'cause I've waited my whole life

“Here you go” Quinn passed you a cup of hot chocolate giving you a kiss on your forehead before sitting next to you pulling you close to him “Wanna talk about it?” 

You sigh “It’s just a lot, There’s too much to do and every time I think I’ve got the workload under control new things are added into the pile” Tears threaten to spill from all the stress you’ve been carrying for the past few days 

“What can I do?” Quinn asks, you put your cup in the coffee table moving closer until you are almost on top of him 

“Just… be here” You tell him and he pulls you into a deep kiss only breaking it when you start running out of air, your head falls onto his shoulder, your own shoulders tense 

“It’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be alright, and I’ll be here for whatever you need” He says and when you look up at him, your teary eyes twinkling under the soft light of the lamp behind you he can’t help but to pull you in for yet another kiss 

“I love you” You whisper once the kiss is done “Thank you for being here” 

“I love you too” This time you are the one who kisses him, a sweet kiss that turns into a makeout session that ends with your clothes sprawled across the living room floor as you show each other just how much love you feel.

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings uh huh, that's right darling, you're the one I want, and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this uh huh, that's right darling, you're the one I want in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams oh, you're the one I want

“That ring was crazy” You tell Quinn as you both get into his car after finishing dinner with some of your college friends “Like we agree it was too much right?”

Quinn laughs starting the car “What, you don’t like shiny diamonds?” 

“I do, I love shiny things” You motion to your bracelets that shimmer with the reflection of the street lights “But that was too much, I swear her finger has to hurt from carrying that ring around” 

“Okay, taking note” Your boyfriend says, making you chuckle “Make sure that the engagement ring is not too big, but how big is too big?” 

“Quinn, my love you don’t need to worry about that” You tell him laughing “I know there’s no way you’d choose something as horrific as that” 

“But I want it to be perfect” He looks at you as you stop at a street light “You deserve the best of the best and I want to make you happy”

“I don’t need a big diamond to be happy, I have you and that’s enough” You stroke his cheek, his stubble scratching against your fingers, he hums in contentment closing his eyes for a moment before the car behind you honks when the light turns to green

“Still, I’ll get you the best ring I can find, if not diamonds, maybe emeralds? Or what about sapphires?” He asks 

“Huggy, I would marry you with paper rings if that meant I got to spend the rest of my life with you” You tell him and he takes your hand that he was holding onto to his lips, giving you a kiss while keeping his eyes on the road 

“You can’t say things like that when I’m driving” He says 

“And why not?” You ask 

“Because all I want after hearing those words is to show my girl how much I love her and- Fuck” His free hand slams against the steering wheel when he looks at the traffic in front of you, the cars slowly coming to a stop and you know you won’t be getting home any time soon, you laugh at his reaction and he can’t help the smile that pops in his face at the sound of you.

In the winter, in the icy outdoor pool when you jumped in first, I went in too I'm with you even if it makes me blue

You were in Michigan for a quick, rare, christmas with the Hughes, everyone was here, Ellen, Jim, Luke, Jack and a few more family members and friends, currently you were playing Jenga in the living room with a few of the Hughes cousins, it was the third time the tower har been rebuilt and so far one of the boy’s cousin, Isaac, and Quinn had lost, the next person to knock the wooden blocks down was joining the boys into the punishment, jumping in the pool, you were trying your best to survive till the end of the round, your tongue out as you pushed one of the blocks gently before pulling it from the other side holding your breath without noticing it, everything was fine until you placed the block on top, Luke cheered next to you and you swear his breath was the reason the tower fell. 

Walking outside with Isaac and Quinn you were already shivering, you had left your jacket inside wearing only a thin long sleeve and your yoga pants with no socks because you refused to wear wet socks ever “Don’t think about it just jump” Isaac said before following his words with the action and cannonballing into the pool

“Ready?” Quinn asked, you turned to the windows seeing everyone that had partaken in the game watching intently waiting for you both to jump in too “Hey it’s just a quick in and out, I’ll go first okay?” You nod cursing Luke mentally once again for breathing too hard and too close to the tower 

The splash from Quinn jumping into the pool meant you were next, bracing yourself, yet not giving yourself too much time to think about it, following Isaac’s words, you jumped in, a yelp coming out of you as your body submerged into the icy water, the group inside cheering at all three of you in the pool, a few phones taking pictures of you three.

The cheers seemed to bring in the attention of the older adults, Ellen rushing out with towels and blankets “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out of there now, you’re gonna get sick!” She called out and all three of you scrambled out bundling yourselves into the towels and then a blanket on top seeking some relief from the harsh cold “Isaac, Quinn how could you do this to y/n? C’mon on sweet girl let’s get you inside and into dry clothes” She pulled you in a side hug guiding you inside, the boys followed quickly “No no” She stopped them once you arrived at the doors “You are not bringing water in you wait here until your brothers bring you clothes” 

“But ma it’s freezing” Quinn complained shaking 

“Aunt Ellen she’s wet too” Isaac gestured at you, still wrapped under Ellen’s arms 

“And I’m sure this wasn’t her idea” Ellen says to the guys “There’s always consequences to your actions, think about it” You hid your laugh from Ellen after seeing the boy’s faces in disbelief, you were sure Quinn and his brothers, and probably Isaac too, had heard those words coming from Ellen’s lips a thousand times while growing up from what you had heard about their childhood. “Jack get your cousin and your brother some dry warm clothes” 

Which takes me back to the color that we painted your brother's wall honey, without all the exes, fights, and flaws we wouldn't be standing here so tall, so

“Are you sure this is the right color?” Quinn asks in disgust looking at the can of navy blue paint in his hands

“Yes Quintin, that is the color I chose for my room walls” Luke remarks making you chuckle “Not all of us like boring beige walls”

“But it’s so dark” Quinn complains once again “And my walls are not boring, right baby?” He asks you 

“No, your agreeable grey walls are very agreeable honey” You tell him holding in a laugh that you can’t help but let out when Luke bursts out laughing 

“Hey I was cleaning the drawers in the garage and I found these, you wanna keep them or should I throw them away?” Jack walks in holding a jar filled with little red and pink paper rolls and a candle, you were all doing some cleaning of the lake house before the rest of your friends arrived for the summer

“What is that?” You ask moving closer to Jack and taking the jar out of his hand

“Nothing important” Quinn takes it out of your hands before you get a chance to inspect it “Throw it away” 

“Hey!” You complain “I was curious” 

“It’s date ideas” Luke tells you from the other side of his room where he is taping whatever he doesn’t want the paint to cover “From Lainey”

“Luke” Quinn says sternly

“Lainey?” You hum remembering Quinn briefly mentioning one of his high school girlfriends with the same name 

“I didn’t know these were still around” Your boyfriend says quickly “I’m sorry” 

“Why are you apologizing?” You ask confused “Didn’t you date this girl in high school?” He nods “So why should it matter? We didn’t even know each other when it happened and I don’t really think that you are still hung up on your high school girlfriend after all these years just because your brother found some old gifts in the garage”

Quinn sighs “So trash, okay got it” Jack starts walking out after Quinn hands him the jar and you stop him before he leaves

“Wait! Is the candle scented?” Jack looks at it and nods “Give me” 

“It’s probably expired just let him throw it away” Quinn tells you, you wave Jack away keeping the candle 

“Do candles expire?” Luke asks and you shrug your shoulders 

“I don’t know but this smells nice” You say taking the cap off and sniffling it “We can put it in one of the guest bathrooms, maybe the UMich guys one, your friends are stinky” You tell Luke who shrugs in agreement 

When you walk out of the room to put the candle in the bathroom Quinn follows “I really promise I didn’t know that was still there or I would’ve gotten rid of it a long time ago” 

“I know Quinn, like i said this is from a long time ago, you had a life before me just like I had one before you” You say softly “And yet through it all we found our way to each other and that’s all that matters” 

Kiss you once 'cause I know you had a long night kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright three times 'cause you waited your whole life

Sighing you check your phone one more time before starting the car, the score changed, but nothing good, in fact the other team scored another goal and with one minute left in the period you know there’s a very slim chance of the Canucks coming back from a 4-1. Pulling out of your work’s parking lot you start driving to the arena, showing your badge when you arrive and parking in Quinn’s parking spot, by the time you had arrived to pick Quinn up, the game had been over for around 10 minutes so you got out of the driver’s seat and sat in the passenger’s while you waited for your boyfriend to come out. You had never before picked Quinn up, usually when you came to the games you would take a cab to the arena and leave with him, but this time his car had broke down the day before and he had asked if you could drop him off and then pick him up after you were done with work and the game was over, you had accepted with hope that you might finish work early and get a chance to watch part of the game but your meeting had run late and by the time you were leaving for the arena it was too late.

A knock on the window made you look up from your phone, Petey was standing outside the car and you got out to say hi “Heads up, he had a rough night” He said into your hug and you thanked him once you let go, he waved and went to his car, Quinn coming out not too long after, you were still waiting outside of the car and the moment he saw you his tense shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened as he hugged you 

“That felt so long” He mumbled into your lips after you pulled him into a kiss

“I can imagine” You say to him “But it’s okay, it’s still early on in the season, have some faith” You kiss him again and feel him melt into you “Let’s go home and rest yeah?” 

“Mmm just one more” He pulls you into another kiss “Okay let’s go I don’t want to be here anymore” 

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings uh huh, that's right darling, you're the one I want, and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this uh huh, that's right

You had just come back from a girls trip, after being incredibly busy with work Quinn had treated you and your three best friends to a week away at a five star hotel in Punta Cana, it was the middle of summer and you had expected to arrive to a loud full lake house, but instead, when the uber that you had insisted on taking so Quinn didn’t have to drive all the way to the airport for you, you stood in front of a quiet and what seemed to be empty house. You walked in and found it weird that you boyfriend wasn’t waiting for you by the door, leaving your suitcase by the front door you walked through the house realizing that you were in fact alone, seeing a note from afar you assumed it was from the boys letting you know where everyone was, but when you got closer you noticed two paper rings on top of a sticky note that read ‘Thank you for making me the happiest person alive + becoming my love + best friend’ you gasped in surprise at it, your eyes filling with tears.

Behind you Quinn walked out of the pantry where he had hidden when he saw your uber pulling up in the driveway after sending his brothers a message that you had arrived so they could start driving the boat back from where he had sent them so you could all hopefully celebrate together after you said yes. He was nervous but reassured himself that this was something you had talked about before and you had told him, multiple times, that you could imagine a future with him “Since the first day I saw you, I knew I belonged to you, meeting you was like listening to a new song and knowing it would be my favorite” He spoke up making you jump a little before you turned around, the two rings in one hand, post it in the other “You make me feel so light and like every minute I get to live with you is a minute well spent, we could spend hours in silence and yet I’d still feel so full, y/n you are my first thought when I wake up and my last when I go to sleep, every love song suddenly fits us” By now he’s standing in front of you, holding your hands gently so you don’t drop the items in them “I found you without looking and I love you without trying, my heart is so full of you I’m not sure I can still call it my own, I swear I can’t love you more than I do right now, yet I know tomorrow I will love you more, so y/n, my love, with paper rings I’m asking you, Would you do me the honor of being the happiest man alive by being able to call myself your husband and love you a little more every day for the rest of our days?” He took one of the rings from your hands kneeling down, not being able to formulate any words you nod, he places the ring on your finger before getting up and kissing you deeply “I do have an actual ring” He fumbles with his pocket until he pulls out a gorgeous ring “I looked for diamond alternatives after we talked about it last, I thought you might like this one, but if you don’t then we can keep the paper ones until we find the perfect one” 

“Oh Quinny, this is… this is more than perfect” You look at the shiny ring that sits next to the paper one “Both of these are perfect and I love you so much” You kiss him once more “I can’t even… wow, I don’t even know how to follow that speech”

He chuckles holding you closer “You don’t have to say anything baby, the yes was enough for me”

You both what the back door open slightly, as if the person opening it wanted to be sneaky but failed miserably, when you both turn to look Jack stands there looking embarrassed about being caught sneaking in “I was tasked with checking on where you were with um… everything” 

“We’ll be right out” Quinn chuckles at his brother who nods and walks out “Ready to go celebrate with everyone?” 

“Everyone? I thought the house was empty” You say confused 

He hold you close and pulls you towards the backyard “Well it was” He explains “I sent everyone out on the boat so they wouldn’t spoil anything before I could ask”

“So?” Trevor asks as everyone looks at you expectantly, instead of replying you lift your left hand where both of your rings lay “Oh thank god, do you know how hard it is to make paper rings? Quinn had us watching tutorials for days!” Cole slaps his head as everyone laughs before rushing towards you to congratulate you.

Darling, you're the one I want in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams oh, you're the one I want I want to drive away with you I want your complications too I want your dreary Mondays wrap your arms around me, baby boy

[melodyreads]

Only threw this party for you

Hamzah x (fem)reader

Description: It's the reader's birthday and she decided to host a "rager". Her friends are skeptical as she's never been interested in hosting parties. Little do they know, it was all planned with the hope that one person in particular would make an appearance.

a/n: I'm sure you can tell from my profile pic that I'm a huge Charli fan lol. This idea came to me as I was playing this album on repeat. Hope y'all enjoy <3

---

The bass thumped against the walls, the thick air overbearing with the smell of spilled drinks and hot bodies. You had never been one for house parties—especially not the kind filled with strangers you barely knew. But this made the party all that much more appealing right? Tonight was different.

Tonight was a gamble.

Your friends had raised their eyebrows when you’d proposed the idea. "Since when do you throw parties?" Taylor had asked, skepticism lacing her tone. You’d only shrugged, feigning nonchalance, while anticipation clawed at your ribs. You have just recently moved into a new apartment with lots of space, so this could be your chance to show it off. While everyone else thought this was just a random burst of spontaneity, you knew better.

You’d planned every detail of this night with one hope in mind:

that Hamzah would show up.

Hamzah had been your friend for years— at least, that was how you would describe him. You weren't even sure if he felt the same way anymore. Your friendship teetering on the edge of something more but never quite crossing that line. That was until one night you had said a few more words then you should have.

---

It had been late, just the two of you lingering in the glow of streetlights after the rest of your friends had gone home. He always walked you home.

His arms rested in his pockets as he looked down at you smiling while you recited a story you found hilarious.

"Can you believe that? She went that far all for some guy. I can't even imagine."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I mean, people do crazy things for the people they like."

You laughed, a little breathless, but his smile made your heart skip. It was like there was a quiet understanding between the two of you, a connection that lingered in the spaces between your words.

As we arrived at my apartment, something in the city air made me feel a bit too confident. Suddenly, words tumbled from your lips before you could stop it. "Honestly, I can only imagine going that far if he was someone like you."

Too much.

Hamzah stopped dead in his tracks, mouth agape with wide eyes.

You had let your guard slip.

He hadn’t responded right away. His gaze had flickered, searching yours, his lips parting as if to say something—anything—but nothing came. The silence stretched too long, thick and suffocating, until finally, he had only managed a quiet, "I should go."

___

That was the last you had heard from him in weeks. You were too embarrassed to phone him or go by his house and apologize for making the situation so weird.

You tried not to scan the crowd too obviously, though your heart shot up each time the front door creaked open. Friends mingled, and people you barely knew were making out in corners. Almost everyone was enjoying themselves, dancing in dim lighting without a care in the world. Someone had taken control of the playlist, swapping your mix of what you liked to call, "gay club music" with Nettspend.

Still, no Hamzah.

You were starting to lose hope.

You went outside in an attempt to cool off. The view was the highlight of your new place. The city lights shined brightly as you looked down imagining what the rest of the world was doing tonight.

What he was doing.

Your head turned to see the steam rolling off the newly integrated pool on your balcony. Beside the view, it was your favorite part of the apartment, and one of the main reasons you fought so hard to secure this place. You looked back through the door you came from.

No one seemed to notice you were even gone.

You slowly removed the short dress you were wearing. As you kicked it to the side, you plunged into the warm water.

The warmth of the water wrapped around you, contrasting against the crisp night air. You let yourself float, eyes closed, taking in the sacred peacefulness. You felt your heart start to ache. You weren’t sure if it was the remnants of disappointment or the burn of anticipation that you couldn’t quite shake.

When you finally broke the surface, slicking your hair back and blinking against the city lights, your breath caught in your throat.

Hamzah was there.

Sitting by the edge of the pool, laying back on his arms, watching you with an unreadable expression. His dark eyes bore into yours with an expression almost unreadable The golden glow of the city cast soft shadows across his face, making the moment feel almost unreal.

You suddenly became acutely aware of your lack of clothes.

Your stomach twisted as embarrassment crept up your spine. You opened your mouth to speak, to explain, to maybe make a joke and defuse the tension, but nothing came out. He beat you to it.

“You always do this,” he said in a deep but quiet voice.

Your brows knitted together. “Do what?”

“Run away.”

You swallowed hard, shifting in the water as you hugged your arms around yourself. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

Hamzah let out a breath, shaking his head. “I wasn’t. I just… I needed to think.”

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure what to say to that. The air between you buzzed with an unspoken weight, the memory of your last encounter hanging between you like a feeling you couldn't shake.

Then, in the silence, he said it.

“I like you.”

Your heart stuttered.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” he continued, his voice softer now, like he wasn’t entirely sure how to say it. “And I freaked out when you got close because I didn’t know if you felt the same.”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling too quickly. The warmth of the pool did nothing to ease the chill spreading through your veins—not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of his words.

You started to move towards him.

Reaching for the ledge, you pushed yourself up slightly, just enough to get the bottom half of his clothes wet.

The space between you dissolves into nothing. Your fingers found his jaw, your fingers finally meeting at the side of his mouth before leaning in.

The moment his lips met yours, it was like everything clicked into place.

Your mouths moved against each other in fever as if you were both making up for lost time. Which you definitley were.

In one swift movement, he pulled you out of the water completely so that your drenched body was straddling his. The tension that had been lingering for weeks melted in the heat of the kiss. He tasted like the city night and something inherently him—something you had been wanting for longer than you cared to admit. His hands found your waist, fingers pressing into the slick fabric of your bra, grounding you in the reality of it all.

When you finally pulled away, foreheads touching, his breath mingling with yours, you couldn’t help but smile.

"So..." Hamzah said out of breath, "Who���s the lucky guest of honor?”

You shrugged, ignoring the way your pulse betrayed you. “Dunno. Just… felt like celebrating.”

He chuckled at this, something dark in his eyes shined as he leaned in close enough for only me to hear.

“Happy birthday, then,” he murmured, voice softer now.

Maybe—just maybe—the gamble had paid off.

---

a/n: Just wrote this in my 365 partygirl shirt hope I channeled the vibes. Thank u for reading <3333333333333333

[jybyls]

Haunted feelings || T.C

Masterlist

Synopsis: Fear turned out to bring out hidden feelings. (Thanks @darkpoetdreamer for the idea)

Warnings: Fluff, strangers to friends (?) to friends to lovers, haunted house, bad writing, not proofread, I think that's all.

Words: 2.3k

- 📜🎧🍂 -

Sam, Chad, Tara, and you were sitting in the living room, bored to death. You had no ideas of what you could possibly do, so you were all just minding your business on your side. Well, I'm not really minding your own business. You kept glancing up at Tara every now and then.

You wanted to talk to her but you didn't know what about, it's not like you guys weren't friends, actually you guys were basically best friends but lately it's been oddly hard to act normal around her and you couldn't figure out why. Yes, you did not use your brain on that one.

"Guys !! I have plans !" Mindy exclaimed as she ran into the living room, almost slipping down. Y'all looked at her excited frame, wondering what she had in mind, "What, Mindy ? Wanna do a horror movie marathon ?" Chad mocked his twin sister, which only led to her giving him a dirty look. You slightly giggled at the scene in front, looking at Mindy to hear her answer.

"Don't say this. I might consider it." She said and that ended up with all of you screaming 'no' because you're sick and tired of watching the same horror movies Mindy propose, "No, please, let's not consider that as an option of a plan. What was your main idea ?" Tara spoke up, but your brain didn't listen.

It just went, 'blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, background stuff..' Safe to say you're a simp. It didn't go unnoticed by Sam. Her older sister sense has been tingling toward you for a moment now.

She definitely knows something is up with her sister and you. She kept her suspicion to herself, tho.

"Will you all shut up and listen to me ? My plan is to visit a haunted house. Y'all are down, or are you too afraid to follow me ?" Mindy exclaimed with a teasing tone, taunting you to follow her in her amazing idea.

"If we don't agree to come with you, you won't go. You're too afraid to go by yourself, that's why you're asking us." Sam, more than calmly, explained her point, which was true, but the shorter twin would never admit it. "That's not the point ! Are you coming or what ?" She shouted, distracting you from Sam's words. You all laughed at her.

"You know what ? Fuck it." Tara said, "Where's that haunted house of yours, anyway ?" The younger Carpenter mocked her friend, not really believing that place existed. "It's down town." Mindy grimaced and Tara reciprocated it, "Very mature of you, girls." You sarcastically said before standing up to get your jacket. They watched you with a dumbfounded look on their face.

"Well ? We're going or not ?" You asked. The twin immediately smiled and screamed, "YES ! Let's go, bitches." And with that everyone is outside, walking to that haunted house. Chad and Mindy were in the front, arguing, Sam was right behind them, not even listening to their faded words, while Tara and you were awkwardly walking next to each other.

You quickly became friends when she moved to New York. You were going to the same college and had the same classes most of the time. You didn't know Tara's story, you didn't know what she experienced, well, at the beginning of your school year you didn't even know who was this Carpenter girl and why was everyone whispering stuff about her and her apparently psychotic sister.

You didn't really care, tho, you thought it wasn't your problem until one morning in your English class your teacher assigned the class for a group project and you got teamed up with Tara. Everyone's eyes were on both of you, but again, you didn't care. You didn't know her, how could you judge her ?

By the end of this class, you came to the conclusion that you liked her. She wasn't mean, like students said. She was actually sweet. She did come up strong at first, but how could you blame her when the whole world wouldn't listen to her until she had nothing left to say ? Well, you couldn't.

You couldn't blame her for anything. And you felt like that when you just met her, so it's safe to say that now that you're down baf for her, it made it impossible to blame her.

Even with her trauma and her sister's advices for some reasons she trusted you. She quickly opened up to you and talked about what happened to her in Wosboro. She talked about Ambet, her sister, her parents, everything. You know everything about her, and you took care of that information. Obviously, you trusted her equally.

You told her everything she needed and wanted to know about you. And ever since you never left each other's side. Eventually, Sam learned to appreciate you, and so did the twins. Oddly enough, everyone agreed with Tara when she suggested that she should be part of the group.

It's been three mot hs now that you're part of the group, and they can all easily say that they like you a lot. You're trusted, and your company is always more than welcome.

You've currently all arrived at the so-called haunted house, holding you phones up with the flash lights on because of the darkness inside. Tara and you stayed close to each other, Sam was behind the two of you while Chad and Mindy were walking to the front, but they quickly backed up with a jump once they heard a noise.

"Did you hear that ?!" Minday whispered-yelled to all of you with a hint of dramatist, "Yes, I fucking did ! What was that ?" Her brother answered with the same tone. "It's the floor." The short brunette rolled her eyes at their dramatist, "It's cracking." You continued, slightly laughing at their reactions.

They huffed, "Yeah. No, yeah, we knew. We were trying to scare you guys." The boy answered with fake confidence, trying to stand taller. "Sure." Sam tried to hold back her mocking smile. You and Tara weren't has strong tho, not only were you mockingly smiling but also directly laughing at them, shamelessly making fun of their sudden fear.

The twins rolled their eyes, huffing again but eventually gave up. They knew they couldn't win with Tara as an enemy. The brunette might be small, but God knows she can and will bite back. With no mercy whatsoever.

You all walked, trying to call in any spirit, but obviously, nothing happened. The scariest thing you saw was a drawing of penis probably made by some teenage boys who found this place before you. The twins kept getting scared by random noises, and they also kept claiming not to be, which was quite ridiculous but strangely funny. It gives Sam something else she can mock them about, and that's enough to make this woman content.

Midnight suddenly hit your watch. You wanted to go home. However, you didn't want to ruin everyone's fun, so you stayed quiet. You lazily follow your friends around. Your mind was far away, thinking about a thousand different things but mostly one thing. Actually, one person. Your best friend, Tara Carpenter. This girl has been haunting all your thoughts.

At first you believed it was nothing, 'It's just because she's my new best friend. That's why I'm always thinking about her.' You told yourself, trying to get some sort of reassurance even tho you knew you were lying to yourself.

Because you knew damn well you're not supposed to think about what your best friend's lips taste like, neither are you supposed to think about her hands on your body and yours on hers. But since you didn't want to ruin your friendship with her, you closed your mouth.

Whenever you felt like telling her she looked pretty, you didn't. Or you'd just say something like, 'cool outfit' or 'cute haircut', when in reality you wish you could tell her how stunning she looks, how you can barely brung yourself to believe that she's real because of her beauty. You wanted to ramble about how much you loved her freckles, how you wanted to kiss every single one of them.

But you couldn't. That was the best you could do. Small, furtive compliments. You were to fucking scared to say too much and risking making her uncomfortable. Or worst disgusted by you. That'd be the end of your world. And your world resolve around her so it's easy to say that if she rejects you in any way you'd be a heartbroken mess.

Little did you know that the girl you were crazy about was head over heals for you. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, she barely even admitted to herself to began with but damn was she down bad for you.

She didn't want to say anything by fear of ruining your friendship. You were so dear to her she would never forgive herself for losing you. So instead of trying any kind of move on you she decided to stay quiet and cherish every second she gets to spend with you.

"Can we head back home or do you still want to walk around like idiots ?" Sam spoke up, clearly tired of this little adventure. You immediately nodded, "Yes, let's go home. I'm getting tired of this." Tara followed you, "Yeah, we're going home." Mindy whined however she agreed.

"Alright, alright. Let's go home. This place's a dump anyway." Chad led the way out of the building, Mindy on the other was terribly disappointed. She wanted to see a ghost or any spirit so badly but nothing happened. Sad for her, but good for all of you because it meant you could head home with a quiet Mindy.

The walk back home was full of teasing against the upset girl who kept huffing and rolling her eyes. You and Tara didn't participate much to the teasing since you shared earplugs with your shared playlist blasting in your ears. To make sure the earplugs wouldn't fall you stayed close to each other, your fingers brushing against one another. Your heartbeat went faster as you hardly blushed, thanks to the darkness it wasn't visible to anyone.

You hesitated for a moment before taking all your courage and interviewing your pinky with hers. You were about to pull away but she was faster to react, squeezing your pinky with hers. You looked down at your hand, a shy smile appeared on your face. You bit your inside cheek, trying to suppress your smile as you looked in front of you.

Beside you Tara was shamelessly smiling, evidently happy about what just happened. Neither of you spoke a word, the simple yet loving gesture meant more than anything.

The older Carpenter had a suspicious look on her face when she saw you and her sister hurrying upstairs the second everyone got home. She trusted you enough not to worry about anything, but her older sister instinct was hitting like crazy. She knew something was going to happen in this room. And she wasn't wrong.

You closed the door behind you as Tara connected her phone to her speaker, soft music was playing in her room. You sat on the chair of her desk while she sat on her bed. For a short time neither of you spoke, enjoying the calm music until Tara broke the slight awkwardness of this moment. "I think we need to talk." Her tone was eripus which cause you to panicked, "What-? What about ?" You faintly stuttered, your eyes widened a little bit. "About what happened earlier." She knew she was making you panick and this brat was savouring it.

You were overthinking like crazy, 'Did she just held my pinky by politeness ?', 'Did I make her uncomfortable ?', 'Oh my god. Did I just loose my best friend ?' Were one of the few questions that went through your brain when she mentioned what happened some minutes ago.

You shakingly breathed out, "What about it ?" You anxiously fidgeted with your rings, waiting for her answer but your mouth had other plans. "Did you not like it ? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I really didn't mean to. It's the last I ever want to do. I love you too much for that."

Fuck.

Maybe you should learn to think before speaking in anxious situations. You both froze at your final words. You tried to speak again but nothing came out of your mouth. Oh, you definitely screwed it.

"You love me ? Like love me, love me ?" Tara asked but again you couldn't find any words to answer so you just nodded. She was dumbfounded. She didn't know how to react. She dreamt of this moment but never expected it to actually occur.

A long silence came between you, even the music couldn't make the situation less awkward. You were so incredibly ashame. You felt like you were burning. You finally found some words, "I should go. I'm sorry." You stood up however it wasn't in Tara's plan to let you go anytime soon. "No, no. Sit back down." Her tone was enough to make you melt. You listened without thinking twice, sitting back down on your chair.

The brunette shook her head and tapped the empty place next to her on her bed, quietly telling to sit next to her. You understood her command and moved to sit next to her.

As soon as you were next to her, her hand found yours. "You didn't make it uncomfortable. Yes, I liked it. And I love you too." She gently whispered, her soft smiled grew on her face, "Like love me, love me ?" You murmured, you barely had the strength to find your voice. The whole thing was unbelievable.

Tara chuckled then nodded, "Like, love you, love you." She nudged your shoulder which caused you to follow her chuckle. "How long have you liked me for ?" You quietly asked, "For too long. So what do you say we stop waiting, hm ?" She smirked as she looked at you. You instantly nodded, "Yeah, that sounds great." You smiled, squeezing her hand.

Waiting this long was worth it, you're finally with the one you love.

- 📜🎧🍂 -

A/n: Rushed end because I'm tired. This was supposed to be a Halloween fic- my bad lol. Have a good day/night. I hope you forgive me for how bad this is. Love y'all <3

[etherealeowyn]

Can't Take My Eyes off You - Johnny Storm x Reader

Word Count: 2,418

I really liked how this story came out, and I'm contemplating writing a second part for this piece! Let me know if you want part 2!

Johnny dialed Y/n’s number on the rotary phone, and held it up to his ear, taking a deep breath as he tried to calm himself to ask the woman out.

He had only talked to her briefly earlier in the day, but he could tell that this girl was special, so much so that he wasn’t about to leave the café where she worked without getting her number.

He stared at the small, lined piece of paper in his hand, adorned with her nice handwriting, hoping she had given him her real number instead of a fake one.

“Hello?” a voice asked on the other line, and Johnny couldn’t stop a smile from forming when he recognized her voice.

“Hi, this is Johnny, the guy from the café earlier,” he spoke, his voice slightly shaky from nerves.

“Yes, I remember you,” Y/n spoke with a little laugh, finding his nervousness cute.

“Haha I’m glad, I got tickets to see Frankie Valli tomorrow, and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me. I understand if you can’t, but I have a feeling I’d enjoy myself a lot more if you were there with me,” he responded, letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

“In that case, I would love to go with you,” she replied, and it was obvious she was smiling just by hearing the tone of her voice.

“Perfect, just give me your address and I’ll pick you up at 6,” he excitedly said, writing down her address on the other side of the paper he held.

The two exchanged information before he placed the phone down and hung up, letting out a deep sigh of relief knowing that everything went exactly how he wanted it to. He fell back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, letting his mind run rampant with thoughts about tomorrow, and how pretty he knew Y/n would look.

Y/n on the other hand, wasn’t as relaxed, she frantically ran over to her closet and began pulling out a series of different dresses, in an attempt to find one she believed would look the best. She’d slip one on and then immediately tear it off after she deemed it wasn’t the best option.

That was until she pulled on a pastel yellow chiffon dress that was fitted around her torso and flared below her waist. It was poofy, but not too much, and it fell to just about knee length. It was elegant, but at the same time, it was playful. She deemed it to be perfect.

She hung it up in her room and pulled out a pair of heels that matched perfectly, and in her opinion made her legs look stunning.

The second she picked everything out, she happily jumped up and down, unable to contain her excitement for tomorrow.

It took her forever to fall asleep that night, and it felt like an eternity waiting for the morning to arrive. But she managed to get a little sleep, just enough to make sure she had enough energy for the day ahead of her.

Johnny began to get ready, slipping on a pair of grey dress pants and tucking in his white button-up shirt. He grabbed a tie from inside his dresser drawer, and wrapped it around his neck, leaning closer to the mirror as he adjusted it. His tongue partially stuck out of his mouth in concentration, and his body had become tense, yet all that stress drained from his body when he managed to get everything to look right.

He looked down at his silver watch and saw that it was about 5:15, so he grabbed his keys and began to walk to where his car was parked. Johnny turned the key into the driver’s side door and opened it before jumping in and adjusting the radio.

He left a little bit early so he could stop at the flower shop to pick her up something because he wanted to do everything in his power to make sure Y/n would enjoy this date. To be completely and utterly honest, he was overwhelmed when he saw the variety of bouquets that lined the store, but he ended up getting a mixture of yellow, orange, and pink roses.

Setting them gently on the passenger seat, he looked at the address written on the lined piece of paper and headed to her house.

The house was well-kept, and Johnny could tell there was a sort of warmth radiating from it. It seemed like one of those houses where good memories were made, and it made him hope one day that he could have something like that for himself.

Walking up the pathway, he held the flowers and adjusted his tie one more time before he rang the doorbell. His throat tightened from nerves as he waited for someone to answer the door, and every second that went by felt like an eternity.

He composed himself one final time when he heard the door unlock, and he couldn’t help but smile when Y/n appeared in front of him. Johnny stood there for a moment in awe of the woman standing in front of him, because her dress clung to her body perfectly, and he loved the way that her hair was down, yet it curled up at the ends.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” Johnny started, “I got you these, I wasn’t sure what your favorite flower was, but I tried to pick out something that was pretty like you.”

He couldn’t stop a rosy blush from appearing on his face when he handed her the flowers. Y/n eagerly took them, and pulled them towards her nose, closing her eyes as she inhaled the fresh scent.

“Thank you, I love roses,” Y/n excitedly responded, looking up at him gleaming.

“You can come in for a second while I put these in water,” she continued, motioning for him to enter with her free hand.

Johnny stepped inside, as Y/n closed the door behind, and immediately he could smell the sweet aroma of baked goods fresh out of the oven. She didn’t take a very long time to put the flowers in a vase, but as he waited, his eyes followed her every move.

He watched as her delicate, manicured hands gently unwrapped the flowers and placed them in the crystal glass. Y/n smiled as she carefully arranged the roses to make sure that they were all situated properly, and Johnny felt like his heart was going to burst right there on the spot.

He hardly knew the woman, yet he was already so undoubtedly infatuated with her that he wasn’t sure what he would do if she didn’t like him.

“Johnny, they look absolutely gorgeous, thank you so much,” Y/n told him, as she set the vase on the counter in front of him, so he could admire the purchase he made.

“Of course, you ready to go?” Johnny asked, holding out his hand for her to take/

She grabbed it before replying, “Definitely, I’m so excited,” and letting her lead her to his car.

Y/n couldn’t help but find his car to be stunning, she loved the baby-blue color of it, plus it was obvious that he kept incredibly good care of it. She watched in admiration as his hand pulled open the passenger side door, and he sweetly smiled at her, waiting until she was inside and situated before closing it for her. He walked around to the other side of the car and hopped in, before starting the ignition and pulling out into the street.

The entire way there, the pair didn’t shut up, it didn’t matter what the topic of conversation was. It was especially nice because both felt more comfortable in the presence of each other by the time Johnny pulled up to the venue.

Y/n could see people waiting outside, but there wasn’t a super long line, which was surprising to her because Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons were pretty big at the time. Their music was playing on the radio practically all the time.

Johnny got out of the car and handed his keys to the valet, before letting Y/n out of the car and taking her straight to the door of the venue, instead of waiting in the line.

“Hey Johnny, have a nice night,” security spoke, as he pulled back the velvet rope blocking the entrance.

Once they got far enough away inside, Y/n questioned, “How’d you know that guy?” surprised by their quick entry.

She noticed that people were staring at them as they walked by, but she just figured it was because they cut the line, now that she thought about it, it was odd because no one looked angry. Rather, they looked more shocked than anything.

“Well, you see, I kind of have an important job,” Johnny responded, rubbing the back of his neck with one of his free hands, he was nervous to tell her about his powers, but at the same time, it was refreshing that she didn’t know who he was. Mostly because it prevented her from having any preconceived notions about him.

“Oh yeah? What do you do?” Y/n asked sweetly, holding onto his arm and turning her head to look at him.

“Uh, I’m part of the Fantastic Four, I have these… powers,” he said, and he expected her to have a drastic, expressive reaction, but she didn’t. However, that didn’t stop his heart from frantically pounding in his chest.

“Why do you look so ashamed, that sounds incredible,” she replied slightly furrowing her brows, as her eyes lit up in some sort of astonishment.

“I guess I thought you’d think I’m some kind of weirdo or freak,” He scoffed, staring down at the ground in front of him.

“I certainly don’t think you’re a freak, and who cares if you’re a weirdo, I consider myself one,” Y/n laughed, “And to be completely honest, it sounds like you’re a hero, which I deeply admire. I could tell you have a good heart.”

Johnny was mildly taken aback by her comment, mostly because he didn’t ever truly think he was a hero. Yes, he did heroic things, but he was much too humble to call himself a hero. But the way the words rolled off her tongue, and the admiration behind her gaze made him feel good. People had told him he was special before, yet the genuine nature of Y/n’s words made him believe it.

His face felt hot as a blush overtook his features, and for a second, he was speechless. The only thing he managed to do at that moment was smile, as he hastily scrambled to come up with a sentence.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this flustered before,” Johnny replied, letting out a breathy laugh, “I’m not used to getting complimented so sincerely, especially by a woman as beautiful as you.”

“Aww thank you, if it makes you feel any better, you look incredibly cute when you’re all flustered,” she giggled, grabbing a drink for him and herself off the tray of one of the bartenders walking around.

He took a sip from his glass before responding, “I’m glad you think so, if I was any redder, I think I’d turn into a tomato.”

“Don’t worry, you’re far from looking like a tomato, to be completely honest, I’m kind of jealous because when you blush it makes the color of your eyes pop,” she joked, though she wasn’t lying one bit, his eyes did look extremely blue.

Their conversation was cut short though when the lights dimmed, and a man walked on stage announcing that the concert was about to begin.

“Would you rather sit down at one of the tables, or go dance?” Johnny whispered, leaning in close to the woman’s ear. He was content regardless of what her answer was because honestly, he just wanted to be close to her.

“I’d love to dance with you,” Y/n responded, looking at the man with a smirk on her face.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he spoke, holding her hand and walking her over to the dance floor where couples were already beginning to congregate.

Johnny’s hands softly held onto her hips, as Y/n’s arms draped around his neck. The two swayed with one another as the band began to play a slowed-down version of Can’t Take My Eyes off You.

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you

Y/n’s head was tilted up slightly, just enough so that the two could maintain eye contact. Though they didn’t say a word, it was clear that both were enjoying themselves, just by the way their eyes were gleaming.

You'd be like Heaven to touch I wanna hold you so much

“I know this might be forward, but can I kiss you?” Johnny asked, studying the woman’s face for an answer before she even said anything.

“Absolutely,” she responded, her eyes that were once staring into his, now lowering until they were fixated on his lips before fluttering upwards once again.

He removed one of his hands from the woman’s waist and used it to cup the side of her cheek, leaning towards her until his lips connected with hers. The kiss was urgent, yet at the same time tender, and within a couple of seconds, Y/n stepped closer to the man limiting the space between them.

At long last love has arrived And I thank God I'm alive

When their lips disconnected, they pulled away slowly, letting their eyes slowly flutter open. Seemingly still lost in the trance of the kiss they shared.

Johnny’s hand lowered back down to her waist, and he pulled Y/n closer to her body until it was pressed up against his. Her head found comfort lying against his chest, listening to his heartbeat almost in time with the music. He pressed a kiss on the top of her head, before smiling to himself as he looked down at the woman in his arms.

He hadn’t been this happy in a long time, and he was savoring every second of the feeling. Johnny didn’t say a single word because he was afraid that he would ruin the moment, so instead, he simply held her tighter and desperately hoped this was going to be the start of a new chapter in his life.

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off you

[hsjazebel]

Meant to be

Summary: Y/N never expected a college party to change anything—until she met Harry. What starts as a quiet connection over books and movies slowly turns into something deeper, proving that some things are simply meant to be.

Wordcount: 32k+ (I have been carried away, sorry 😅)

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day! ♡ Here’s a little story about love finding you when you least expect it. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

— — —

The party was louder than she expected.

Y/N wasn’t sure why she had let Charlotte convince her to come. Maybe it was the way her roommate had pleaded, eyes wide with excitement, promising it would be “just for an hour.” Or maybe it was the fact that she had spent too many Friday nights curled up in bed while the rest of campus buzzed with energy.

She had thought, just for once, that maybe she should say yes.

But now, standing in the middle of the crowded living room, she regretted it.

The music thumped against the walls, the bass so deep she could feel it in her ribs. Laughter and voices blurred together in an endless hum, broken only by the occasional shout of someone calling out to a friend. The air was thick—too many people, too much perfume, too much heat.

She tugged at the hem of her sweater, suddenly self-conscious. She wasn’t dressed for this, not like the other girls in shimmering tops and short skirts. She had gone for comfort—jeans, a fitted top, her favorite oversized cardigan—but now she felt out of place, like she hadn’t read the unspoken dress code.

Charlotte had disappeared almost immediately, swallowed up by the crowd, probably off to find that guy she’d been texting. Y/N had tried to follow for a bit, but the sea of people made it impossible to keep up.

Now she was alone, pressed against the wall, holding a drink she hadn’t even sipped.

She exhaled, glancing toward the front door. Maybe she could just leave. Charlotte wouldn’t mind—she was too caught up in her own night.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an open door leading to the balcony.

Without thinking, she headed for it, slipping outside and closing the door behind her.

Cool air washed over her, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat inside. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and leaned against the railing, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal. The city stretched out in front of her, distant lights flickering against the night sky. From here, the noise of the party was muffled, just a dull hum beneath the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle over her.

And then—

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

The voice was smooth, warm. British.

Her eyes snapped open.

Turning slightly, she found herself face to face with someone she recognized immediately.

Harry Styles.

Her breath hitched, just for a second.

She had seen him around before, of course. It was hard not to notice him. He wasn’t the typical loud, overly confident guy that thrived in these kinds of settings, but he had a presence that made people gravitate toward him anyway. Maybe it was the way he carried himself—calm, collected, always with an air of quiet amusement, like he was in on some inside joke no one else knew about.

Now, standing in front of her in the dim balcony light, he looked impossibly at ease.

His dark curls were pushed back messily, a few strands falling over his forehead. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, framing sharp green eyes that studied her with quiet interest. His loose button-up was unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the intricate tattoos winding down his forearms.

He held a drink casually in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket, like he had all the time in the world.

She swallowed.

“I—uh—yeah,” she finally managed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

His lips quirked, as if her answer didn’t surprise him at all. “Figured as much.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how exactly did you figure that?”

He took a slow sip from his drink before answering. “Well, for one, you’ve been out here for at least five minutes and haven’t checked your phone once.” His eyes flickered toward the door. “And two… you look like you’re trying to disappear.”

She huffed out a quiet laugh. “That obvious?”

Harry smirked. “A little.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The city lights flickered in the distance, and the air between them felt charged—not uncomfortable, but something else entirely.

Then, he shifted slightly, turning more toward her.

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

She let out a small breath, amused. As if she didn’t already know.

“I know,” she admitted, then immediately winced. “I mean—everyone knows who you are.”

Harry chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That’s fair.” He tilted his head slightly. “And you are…?”

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, softer this time, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue. Then, with a small smile, he extended his hand. “Well, Y/N, it’s nice to officially meet you.”

She hesitated for just a second before slipping her hand into his.

His palm was warm, his grip gentle but firm.

“Nice to meet you too, Harry.”

His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary before he let go.

He leaned his elbow against the railing, glancing at her thoughtfully. “So, if parties aren’t your thing… what would you rather be doing right now?”

She bit her lip, thinking. “Watching a movie, probably.”

Harry’s brows lifted slightly. “Anything in particular?”

She hesitated, then decided to be honest. “A romcom.”

His lips curled into a slow smile. “You like romcoms?”

She nodded. “I grew up watching them. Notting Hill, 10 Things I Hate About You, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days… I know they’re cheesy, but I love them.”

He studied her for a second, then let out a soft chuckle. “Cheesy doesn’t mean bad. Those are classics.”

She tilted her head. “Wait… you actually like them too?”

Harry smirked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Course I do. I mean, have you seen When Harry Met Sally? It’s got my name in it. That’s a sign, don’t you think?”

She laughed—really laughed, for the first time that night.

Harry watched her, his expression softer now, like he was pleased to be the reason behind it.

The conversation flowed easier after that. They debated over the best romcom of all time, exchanged favorite scenes, and argued about which movie had the most unrealistic yet satisfying ending. Somewhere in between, Y/N forgot about the party altogether.

But eventually, her phone buzzed in her pocket—Charlotte, probably looking for her.

She sighed, realizing she had to go.

Harry noticed. “Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She hesitated, then, feeling unusually bold, added, “But… maybe next time, I’ll skip the party and just watch a romcom instead.”

His smile was slow, almost knowing. “Maybe next time, you won’t have to watch it alone.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

And as she stepped back inside, disappearing into the noise and the crowd, she couldn’t help but hope—just a little—that this was only the beginning.

———

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sound of Charlotte’s voice.

“Well, well, well,” her roommate drawled, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Look who’s finally awake.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face into the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” Charlotte said, walking over and flopping down onto the bed beside her. “And you have some explaining to do.”

Y/N peeked at her through one eye. “Explaining?”

Charlotte grinned, far too awake for this early in the morning. “Don’t play innocent with me. You disappeared at the party. And when I finally found you again, you looked… different.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “So spill.”

Y/N sighed, rolling onto her back. “There’s nothing to spill.”

Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Lies! I saw you talking to Harry Styles.” She poked Y/N’s side. “You—quiet, book-loving, avoider of all social gatherings—somehow ended up alone on a balcony with the most intriguing guy on campus.”

Y/N felt her face heat up. “It wasn’t like that,” she muttered.

Charlotte smirked. “Then what was it like?”

Y/N hesitated. The truth was, she wasn’t exactly sure.

“It was… nice,” she admitted after a moment. “We just talked.”

Charlotte studied her, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Talked? That’s it?”

Y/N nodded.

Charlotte huffed, flopping back against the bed. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N smiled, sitting up and stretching. “Did you at least have fun?”

Charlotte let out a dreamy sigh. “Oh, absolutely. And I might have secured myself a coffee date with Mason.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Mason?”

“You know, Harry’s friend? Tall, kind of scruffy, ridiculously charming?” Charlotte waggled her fingers. “I think we have a connection.”

Y/N laughed softly. “I’m happy for you.”

Charlotte sat up again, her expression turning devious. “And speaking of coffee dates…”

Y/N’s stomach fluttered. “No.”

Charlotte pouted. “Come on! I think he likes you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We talked for, like, twenty minutes.”

Charlotte shrugged. “That’s plenty of time to make an impression. And if he really likes you, you’ll see him again.”

Y/N didn’t answer. Because the thought had already crossed her mind.

Would she see him again?

———

She did.

Three days later.

At the campus café.

Y/N had been curled up in a corner booth, a warm cup of tea beside her as she flipped through a book for class. The café was quiet, filled mostly with students studying or catching up on assignments. The hum of conversation and the occasional clinking of cups created the kind of atmosphere she loved—calm, steady, familiar.

And then, a shadow fell over her table.

“Y/N.”

She looked up.

And there he was.

Harry Styles, standing beside her table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a curious tilt to his head. He wasn’t wearing his glasses today, but she still recognized the quiet amusement in his eyes.

“Hi,” she said, feeling her heart pick up speed.

His lips twitched. “Mind if I sit?”

She hesitated for only a second before shaking her head. “Go ahead.”

Harry slid into the seat across from her, setting his coffee down. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Alright, I might have hoped I would.”

Her stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

“What are you reading?” he asked, nodding toward the book in her hands.

She glanced down, suddenly self-conscious. “Uh, Wuthering Heights.”

His brows lifted, impressed. “Intense choice.”

She shrugged. “It’s for class, but I like it.”

Harry studied her for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, stretching out comfortably. “So, tell me—are you one of those people who think Heathcliff is romantic, or do you see him for the walking red flag that he is?”

Y/N blinked in surprise. “You’ve read it?”

He smirked. “I have.”

She bit her lip, eyeing him. “And?”

Harry sighed dramatically. “Look, I get the passion, the whole ‘soulmate across time and space’ thing, but let’s be honest—if Heathcliff were around today, he’d be sending late-night ‘u up?’ texts and brooding over his ex’s Instagram posts.”

Y/N let out a surprised laugh. “That is… disturbingly accurate.”

Harry grinned. “And you? Are you a Heathcliff apologist?”

She shook her head. “I think he and Cathy deserved each other—because no one else should have to deal with that level of drama.”

Harry chuckled. “Harsh, but fair.”

There was something about the way he looked at her—curious, amused, like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. It made her stomach twist in a way she wasn’t used to.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Then—

“So,” Harry said, breaking the moment, “you never told me your verdict.”

Y/N frowned. “My verdict?”

“The best romcom of all time.”

She smiled, relieved by the lighter topic. “That’s impossible to answer.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright. Then let’s make it simpler. What’s your go-to comfort movie?”

She thought for a second. “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”

His eyes lit up. “Classic.”

She nodded. “It’s just fun, you know? The whole fake dating thing, the ridiculousness of it all. And Kate Hudson? Iconic.”

Harry smirked. “And the ‘You let it die!’ scene? A cinematic masterpiece.”

Y/N laughed. “Exactly.”

Harry studied her for a moment, then said, “I like that.”

Y/N suddenly felt warm under his gaze. She looked down, tracing the rim of her cup. “What about you?”

Harry pretended to think. “Mmm… Notting Hill.”

She grinned. “Oh, come on. You just like it because of the ‘I’m just a girl’ scene.”

He laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe I like the idea that two people from completely different worlds can still find their way to each other.”

Something about the way he said it made her stomach flutter.

The conversation drifted after that—talk of books, movies, little things that made them both feel at home. The more they spoke, the more Y/N felt that strange, unexpected ease settle between them.

And when she finally glanced at the time, she realized an hour had passed without her even noticing.

“I should probably get to class,” she murmured, closing her book.

Harry nodded, but didn’t look particularly eager to leave.

As she stood, sliding her bag over her shoulder, he tapped his fingers against the table. “So…”

She looked at him expectantly.

He smirked. “Movie night?”

Her heart skipped. “Are you asking me out, Harry Styles?”

His expression was all mischief. “Maybe.”

She bit her lip, pretending to consider. Then, feeling unusually bold, she said, “Okay.”

Harry��s smirk turned into something softer.

“Good,” he said.

And as she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.

———

The library was quieter than usual.

Y/N liked it that way. She liked the solitude, the way the world seemed to shrink down to just her and the words on the page. It was calming—predictable.

What she didn’t expect, however, was a voice breaking through the silence.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to hide away in a library for fun.”

She looked up, already knowing who she would see.

Harry stood in front of her table, a familiar smirk on his lips, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He had a notebook tucked under his arm and a coffee in hand, looking completely at ease despite the way his presence sent her heart racing.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “And yet, here you are.”

Harry hummed, sliding into the chair across from her. “Touché.”

She watched as he set his coffee down and flipped open his notebook, as if he belonged there—like this was routine.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are you actually here to study, or are you just bothering me for fun?”

Harry grinned. “Can it be both?”

She huffed, biting back a smile as she returned her gaze to her book. But she could still feel his eyes on her.

A beat passed before he spoke again. “Wuthering Heights, huh? Still brooding over Heathcliff?”

Y/N sighed, looking up. “You do realize I read more than one book, right?”

Harry’s smirk widened. “Do you, now?”

She rolled her eyes and turned the book so he could see the title.

His gaze flickered over the cover before he raised an eyebrow. “White Nights?”

Y/N tilted her head. “Surprised?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, studying her. “A little. Didn’t take you for a Dostoevsky kind of girl.”

“And what kind of girl did you take me for?” she challenged.

He smirked. “Jane Austen, maybe. Brontë sisters, definitely. But Russian literature? That’s a surprise.”

She shrugged. “I like stories about lonely people.”

Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone too fast for her to catch.

“Lonely people,” he repeated. “And here I thought you just liked tragic love stories.”

Y/N hesitated, then said softly, “Aren’t they the same thing?”

Harry studied her for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, in a voice quieter than before, he said, “I guess they are.”

Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something had shifted—like she had let him see a part of her she didn’t show to just anyone.

Then, after a moment, Harry’s lips twitched up into a smile. “So, is White Nights a re-read, or am I catching you in the middle of a first-time experience?”

She exhaled, grateful for the change in tone. “Re-read.”

His grin widened. “Interesting. That means you must really like it.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you about to judge my taste in books?”

Harry smirked. “Not at all. I was actually going to say… maybe I should let you convince me to read it.”

Y/N studied him. “You’ve never read it?”

“Not yet,” he admitted.

A small smile played on her lips. “Maybe you should.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe I will.”

———

That night, her phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

Unknown [9:07 PM]: So, lonely people, huh? Convince me why I should read White Nights.

Y/N frowned, staring at the screen. Who the hell—?

Y/N [9:08 PM]: Who is this?

A pause. Then—

Unknown [9:08 PM]: Wow. That hurts.

Her heart skipped.

She squinted at the message, then at the number, but it wasn’t saved in her contacts.

Y/N [9:09 PM]: Seriously. Who is this??

A few seconds passed before a reply popped up.

Unknown [9:09 PM]: It’s Harry.

She blinked.

Then—

Y/N [9:10 PM]: …How did you get my number?

Harry [9:11 PM]: Your lovely roommate gave it to me.

Y/N groaned out loud. “Charlotte!”

Across the room, Charlotte barely glanced up from her laptop. “Hmm?”

Y/N waved her phone in the air. “Did you seriously give Harry my number?”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh. So he finally texted you?”

“Charlotte.”

“What?” she said innocently. “He asked, and I figured it would take you forever to do it yourself.”

Y/N let out a long, dramatic sigh, turning her attention back to the screen.

Y/N [9:12 PM]: I hate you.

Harry [9:12 PM]: No, you don’t.

She rolled her eyes.

Y/N [9:13 PM]: Maybe you should read it and see for yourself.

Harry [9:14 PM]: Bold of you to assume I have time for Russian literature.

Y/N [9:15 PM]: Bold of you to assume I’d let you borrow my copy.

Harry [9:16 PM]: So possessive. I like it.

Y/N [9:17 PM]: You’re impossible.

Harry [9:17 PM]: And yet, here you are, still texting me.

She bit her lip, trying not to smile.

Harry [9:18 PM]: You still good for our not-date movie night?

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

Y/N [9:19 PM]: You mean the highly academic film screening of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?

Harry [9:20 PM]: Exactly. For research purposes.

She hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen.

Y/N [9:21 PM]: Yeah. I’m still in.

His reply came almost instantly.

Harry [9:21 PM]: Good.

She stared at the word for a long time, ignoring the way her face felt impossibly warm.

———

“You’ve checked your phone three times in the last minute.”

Y/N shot Charlotte a glare from across the room. “I have not.”

Charlotte smirked, finishing the last touches of her makeup. “You so have.”

Y/N huffed, locking her phone and tossing it onto the bed like that would somehow make her friend drop the topic. “I’m just checking the time.”

“Mm-hmm.” Charlotte turned, arms crossed. “Because, of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that Harry is coming over.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her face felt warm. “It’s just a movie night.”

Charlotte grinned. “And yet, you’ve changed your sweater twice.”

Y/N groaned, flopping back onto her pillows. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Charlotte grabbed her bag, checking her reflection in the mirror. “I think it’s cute that you’re all flustered over him.”

“I’m not flustered.”

Charlotte raised a brow. “You are so flustered.”

Y/N groaned again, covering her face with a pillow.

A knock at the door made her sit up way too fast.

Charlotte smirked knowingly. “That’s my cue.”

Y/N watched as Charlotte opened the door, revealing Harry—standing there in his usual effortless way, glasses on, a bag of snacks in one hand.

“Oh, hey, Harry,” Charlotte greeted with a grin, throwing Y/N one last look. “I was just leaving.”

Harry glanced between them, looking mildly amused. “Leaving?”

“Yep.” Charlotte winked at Y/N. “Have fun.”

And before Y/N could even form a reply, she was gone.

Harry stepped inside, brow raised. “Did I just interrupt something?”

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. “No. She’s just being Charlotte.”

Harry chuckled, setting the snacks down. “That explains a lot.”

Settling onto the couch, Y/N pressed play on 27 Dresses, tucking her legs under her.

Harry sat beside her, stretching his arm along the back of the couch. The space between them was small—too small—and she tried not to focus on the way his knee almost brushed hers.

“Have you seen this before?” he asked.

She scoffed. “Please. At least twenty times.”

Harry smiled. “Figures.”

For the first half hour, they made occasional comments about the movie—Harry teasing her about knowing all the lines, Y/N defending why it was a romcom classic.

But eventually, the room grew quieter. The soft glow of the screen cast shadows across Harry’s face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the way his glasses slid down his nose.

And Y/N—despite her best efforts to stay focused on the film—felt her eyelids growing heavy.

She shifted slightly, trying to stay awake, but the warmth of the room, the steady sound of the dialogue, and the presence of Harry right beside her made it impossible.

At some point, she leaned just a little too far to the side—

And before she could stop herself, her head landed gently on his shoulder.

For a second, she almost panicked.

But Harry didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

If anything, he relaxed.

She felt him shift slightly, adjusting so that she fit more comfortably against him.

And just like that, sleep took over.

———

The next morning, the first thing Y/N registered was warmth.

A slow, steady warmth surrounding her, lulling her in a sleepy haze.

Then, she felt movement.

Her eyes fluttered open, and it took her a moment to realize:

She was curled into Harry’s side, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders.

The snack bag was on the floor. The TV screen had long since gone black. The early morning light was filtering through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room.

And Harry—

Was still asleep.

His head rested against the back of the couch, lips slightly parted, curls falling across his forehead. His glasses were slightly askew, one arm still tucked around her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N barely breathed.

She should move. Should sit up, stretch, do anything to break the moment before he woke up.

But before she could, she felt him shift.

A slow inhale. A stretch.

And then, with a small frown, Harry’s eyes blinked open.

For a second, he looked confused. Disoriented.

Then, his gaze landed on her.

They both froze.

Silence.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

And then—

Harry’s lips twitched, still laced with sleep. “Morning.”

Y/N swallowed. “Morning.”

Another pause.

Then, realization dawned in Harry’s sleepy eyes. He glanced down at their position—her body still tucked into his side, his arm still loosely wrapped around her.

And yet—he didn’t move away.

Instead, his mouth curved into something softer.

“Didn’t mean to steal your couch,” he murmured.

Y/N huffed out a quiet laugh. “Didn’t mean to steal your shoulder.”

Harry smiled.

And for a moment, they just… sat there.

Close. Warm. Unmoving.

Y/N was still sitting on the couch, trying to process the fact that she’d just spent the night curled up against Harry Styles, when she heard him stretch beside her.

She glanced over. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, one hand running through his curls, the other adjusting his glasses.

And he looked… way too good for someone who had just woken up.

Before she could stop herself, she spoke.

“Do you—” She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “Do you want some coffee?”

Harry turned to her, blinking.

Then, the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Are you offering me coffee, Y/N?”

She rolled her eyes, standing up. “I regret it already.”

Harry chuckled, pushing himself up from the couch. “Too late.”

———

They ended up in the small dorm kitchen, Y/N fumbling with the coffee machine while Harry leaned against the counter, watching her with amusement.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to function without caffeine,” he said.

She scoffed. “Who says I function at all?”

Harry smirked. “Fair point.”

Once the coffee was ready, she handed him a mug, grabbing one for herself before hopping up onto the counter.

Harry took a slow sip, humming in approval. “Not bad.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Not bad?”

“Yeah.” He nudged her knee playfully. “Could be better.”

She gasped in mock offense. “You are such a snob.”

Harry grinned. “I have high standards.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling.

They fell into comfortable conversation, talking about everything from classes to 27 Dresses to how Harry apparently had a very strong opinion about the correct way to make tea.

And Y/N—despite the fact that she had woken up to a situation that should have been extremely awkward—found herself relaxing.

That was, of course, until Charlotte walked in.

She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before her—Harry standing in the kitchen, hair still tousled from sleep, drinking coffee from their mugs.

Y/N sitting on the counter, wearing the same clothes from last night.

Charlotte’s eyes widened.

Then, a slow smirk spread across her face.

“Oh,” she said, drawing out the word. “Good morning.”

Y/N groaned. “Charlotte—”

Charlotte ignored her, turning to Harry with an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Wow, Harry. You’re still here?”

Harry, to Y/N’s horror, grinned.

“Apparently, I make decent company, and your couch is not too bad” he said, sipping his coffee.

Charlotte gasped dramatically. “Did Y/N let you sleep on the couch? That is so rude.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Charlotte.”

Charlotte pressed a hand to her heart. “I mean, I was gone all night, you totally could’ve used my bed—”

Y/N almost choked on her coffee. “Oh my God, stop.”

Charlotte just smirked, eyes dancing between them. “I’m just saying…”

Y/N glared. “You’re the worst.”

Harry chuckled, setting down his mug. “I should probably get going before Mason starts wondering where I am.”

He turned to Y/N then, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmured.

She swallowed. “Yeah. Anytime.”

Charlotte wiggled her eyebrows.

Y/N shot her a warning look.

Harry—completely amused—grabbed his bag and made his way to the door.

“See you later, Y/N.”

And with that, he was gone.

Y/N barely had time to let out a breath before Charlotte pounced.

“So.”

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Don’t.”

Charlotte ignored her, flopping onto the couch with a wicked grin. “You slept together.”

“Oh my God—”

“Not like that,” Charlotte amended. “But still. You slept together.”

Y/N groaned. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Oh, honey. It so was.”

———

Y/N had spent the entire morning convincing herself that nothing had changed.

That waking up next to Harry hadn’t felt different.

That the way he had smiled at her over coffee hadn’t made her stomach flip.

That she wasn’t replaying every second of their time together like some lovesick idiot.

But she was failing—miserably.

And Charlotte wasn’t helping.

“So,” her roommate drawled, flipping through a magazine on her bed, “are we just gonna pretend that last night never happened?”

Y/N, sitting at her desk, sighed. “Nothing happened.”

Charlotte scoffed. “You cuddled on the couch, made him coffee in the morning, and practically gazed at each other the whole time. That’s something.”

Y/N turned to glare at her. “I wasn’t gazing.”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh, honey. You were gazing.”

Y/N groaned, dropping her head onto her desk.

Charlotte laughed, tossing the magazine aside. “Look, all I’m saying is—he’s different, isn’t he?”

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I mean, I’ve never seen you act like this over a guy. You usually keep your distance, but with Harry… I don’t know. You let him in.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest—but nothing came out.

Because, as much as she hated to admit it, Charlotte wasn’t wrong.

Harry was different.

And that was what scared her the most.

———

That afternoon, she tried to focus on studying.

Tried being the keyword.

She was in the library, sitting at her usual spot by the window, but the words on the page blurred together.

Her phone buzzed.

She glanced at it, already knowing who it was.

Harry [3:27 PM]: You’re not skipping the library today, are you?

Y/N [3:28 PM]: I’m literally here right now.

Harry [3:29 PM]: Good. Would’ve had to question your commitment to academia otherwise.

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips.

A minute later, she heard a chair scrape against the floor.

She looked up.

Harry slid into the seat across from her, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Hi,” he said, smiling.

Y/N tried to ignore the way her heartbeat definitely sped up. “Hi.”

He set down his bag and pulled out a book. “What are we studying today?”

Y/N sighed. “I’m trying to get through this reading, but it’s not working.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Do you want me to quiz you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You just got here.”

He smirked. “And?”

She shook her head, amused. “Fine.”

And so, they studied. Or at least, they tried.

Every time Harry read a passage aloud, he did it with exaggerated dramatics, making Y/N laugh.

Whenever she got an answer right, he’d tap his fingers against the table like a drumroll.

At some point, he reached for her book, fingers grazing hers—and neither of them pulled away.

The touch was brief, but her skin tingled where it had been.

Harry didn’t say anything, but his gaze flickered to hers, something unspoken lingering between them.

For the first time, Y/N felt like she was on the edge of something.

And she didn’t know whether to step forward—or run.

———

An hour later, Y/N packed up her things.

“I should go,” she murmured.

Harry nodded, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Alright.”

She hesitated before speaking. “Thanks for—y’know. Keeping me sane.”

Harry’s lips quirked. “Anytime.”

As she turned to leave, he called after her

“Oh, Y/N?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

Harry reached into his bag, pulling out a book.

She frowned as he held it out to her.

“The Symposium?” she read aloud, eyebrows raised.

Harry smirked. “Figured you might like it.”

She stared at him. “Harry, this is your copy.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“So, I know you annotate all your books.” She flipped through the pages, confirming her suspicions—his familiar, neat handwriting filled the margins. “I can’t take this.”

“You can,” he said simply. “And you will.”

She glanced up at him, confused. “But… why?”

Harry held her gaze for a moment, then leaned in slightly.

“Because I think you’ll understand it,” he murmured.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Because there was weight behind his words—something deeper than just a casual book recommendation.

She swallowed, gripping the book a little tighter.

“…Thank you,” she said softly.

Harry smiled. “See you later, Y/N.”

And as she walked away, The Symposium pressed against her chest, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

That, maybe, she had just crossed a line she could never go back from.

———

The night wrapped around them like a quiet secret. The streets were nearly empty, the world softened by the golden glow of streetlamps.

Y/N and Harry walked side by side, their steps unhurried, as if neither of them wanted the night to end just yet.

She wasn’t sure how they ended up here—how a simple goodnight after studying turned into do you want to take a walk? But she didn’t regret saying yes.

It had been a week since that night at her apartment, since they’d woken up together on the couch, and things between them had shifted. Not in an obvious way—there were no declarations, no grand confessions—but something had changed.

Harry had always looked at her like he was intrigued. But now?

Now, he looked at her like he knew. Like he was just waiting for her to admit it, too.

“You’re quiet,” Harry murmured beside her.

She glanced at him. “So are you.”

He smiled, a little crooked. “Guess I don’t always have something to say.”

“Impossible.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Harsh.”

They walked a little further before she spoke again, a quiet admission in the stillness of the night.

“I read your notes.”

Harry turned his head slightly. “My notes?”

“In The Symposium.”

Realization flickered in his expression. “Right.”

She hesitated. “There was one part that stuck with me.”

His gaze softened. “Which one?”

Y/N swallowed.

“The part where you wrote that love is about recognizing something familiar in someone else.”

Harry didn’t speak right away.

Then, quietly, he said, “That’s my favorite part.”

Y/N stopped walking.

So did he.

The silence between them stretched, heavy with something.

She could feel her pulse thrumming in her wrists, in her throat, in the space between them that was growing smaller by the second.

Harry took a step closer. Slowly. Like he was giving her time to stop him.

She didn’t.

His gaze flickered to her lips, just for a second, before meeting her eyes again.

His voice was softer when he spoke next. “You realize I like you, don’t you?”

Y/N felt something tighten in her chest.

Because, of course, she did.

But hearing it—feeling it—was different.

She exhaled, barely a whisper. “I think I do now.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good.”

He didn’t move right away.

He just looked at her, taking her in, like he was memorizing the moment.

Then, so softly it was almost imperceptible, his fingers brushed against hers.

Y/N inhaled sharply.

And that was all it took.

Before she could second-guess it, before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the space between them.

She barely had time to process the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breath, before his hand came up, fingers grazing her jaw as he leaned in—slow, careful, waiting.

And then—

Then, he kissed her.

It was soft at first. Just a whisper of a touch, a silent question against her lips.

But the moment she kissed him back, the moment her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater, it changed.

It deepened.

Harry let out a quiet sound—like he had been waiting for this longer than he cared to admit—and then his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer, closer, like the space between them was unbearable.

Her heart was racing.

She could feel the warmth of his palms, the faint scrape of his stubble against her skin, the way he kissed her like he was learning her—like he wanted to know exactly how she fit against him.

And she let him.

By the time they pulled apart, her head was spinning, her breath uneven.

Harry’s forehead rested against hers, and he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” she asked, still breathless.

He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing. Just… glad I finally did that.”

She bit her lip, trying—and failing—not to smile.

“Me too.”

Harry’s thumb brushed against her waist absentmindedly.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked.

Y/N nodded.

But neither of them moved.

Not right away.

And when they finally started walking again, Harry’s fingers found hers, intertwining them effortlessly—like they had been waiting to do that, too.

———

It had only been a couple of weeks since that night—their first kiss under the dim glow of the streetlights—but things between them had changed so much.

Not in an overwhelming way. Not in a way that made Y/N feel rushed or pressured.

But in a way that made her soften.

In a way that made it impossible to ignore how utterly smitten Harry was.

It was in the way he always found a reason to touch her, even in the smallest ways—fingertips brushing against hers when they walked, absentmindedly tucking her hair behind her ear when she was focused on something, resting his chin on her shoulder just because he could.

It was in the way he remembered things, like how she liked her coffee and how she hated the sound of loud chewing. In the way he always waited for her outside class even when they had different schedules. In the way he looked at her, like he was always choosing to.

Like he couldn’t believe she was real.

Today was no different.

Y/N sat curled up on the library couch, actually trying to get some work done, while Harry sat beside her, flipping through a book he had absolutely no interest in.

At least, that’s what she assumed—because instead of reading, he was staring at her.

She sighed, setting her pen down. “Harry.”

“Hm?” He looked unbothered, too comfortable as he rested his head against the back of the couch.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

She shot him a pointed look.

He smirked, unfazed. “Looking at my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flipped.

Even after two weeks, the word still did something to her.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were warm, and Harry knew it.

With a quiet chuckle, he reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers, absentmindedly running his thumb across the back of her palm.

“Should I be studying?” he murmured, lips twitching.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Harry pretended to consider it. Then, with zero hesitation, he squeezed her hand and dragged it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

“Too bad,” he murmured against her skin.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

This boy.

She was so doomed.

———

Y/N had tried to keep things subtle.

Not because she wanted to hide it, but because Charlotte was the biggest menace when it came to teasing her, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that just yet.

Too bad Charlotte noticed everything.

Like the way Y/N smiled at her phone when she thought no one was looking. The way she suspiciously left the dorm at night with an “I’ll be back later.” The way she got flustered when Harry’s name came up in conversation.

She had her suspicions, but she didn’t have proof.

Until now.

Because today, as Charlotte was walking toward the dorm, she saw them.

Saw Harry pressing a lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead. Saw the way she leaned into him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And that was all she needed.

“I KNEW IT!”

Y/N jumped, turning to find Charlotte standing a few feet away with the biggest, most victorious grin on her face.

“Oh my God,” Y/N muttered.

Harry—who clearly wasn’t fazed at all—simply raised an eyebrow. “Did you, though?”

Charlotte turned to him, still grinning. “YES. I just didn’t have evidence.” She turned back to Y/N, wiggling her eyebrows. “But now I do.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Charlotte sing-songed.

Harry chuckled, amused, before leaning down and whispering into Y/N’s ear, “I’ll leave you to it, sweetheart.”

She sighed dramatically. “Coward.”

He smirked, kissed the side of her head one last time, and walked away, leaving her to deal with Charlotte’s relentless interrogation.

Y/N was so in trouble.

———

After an hour of being mercilessly teased, Y/N flopped onto her bed, groaning in frustration.

Charlotte smirked from across the room. “Oh, come on, you love me.”

“Debatable,” Y/N muttered, reaching for her phone.

She scrolled through her messages before typing.

Y/N [10:08 PM]: I officially hate you.

Harry [10:09 PM]: That’s unfortunate.

Y/N [10:09 PM]: Charlotte won’t stop teasing me. This is your fault.

Harry [10:10 PM]: Guess I’ll just have to make it up to you, won’t I?

Y/N froze, rereading the message at least three times.

Before she could even think of a response, there was a quiet knock on the door.

Charlotte and Y/N shared a look.

Y/N opened it—and there he was.

Harry stood there, a lazy smirk on his lips, holding a small pastry in a white paper bag.

“Hey,” he murmured.

Y/N blinked.

Charlotte—who was watching the whole thing unfold—snorted. “Oh, my God. You are so whipped.”

Harry didn’t even deny it.

He just shrugged, handed Y/N the bag, and kissed her temple like it was the most normal thing in the world.

When she looked inside, she found her favorite pastry, the one from the café across campus.

She looked back up at him, eyes soft. “You went all the way to—“

Harry simply shrugged. “Felt like it”

Y/N pressed her lips together, trying not to melt right then and there.

Charlotte, however, had no such restraint. “You two are disgusting”, she muttered, rolling her eyes before dramatically throwing a pillow over her head.

Harry chuckled, then leaned down and whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Worth it.”

And just like that, Y/N knew—

She was so, so screwed.

[fangdokja]

hi! i wanted to know if you were willing to share the manhwas you used for your yandere banners 😓 (i need more manhwas to read,,)

Me: Shiz. All of the otome game ones…?! Wait…. Or all of it…?!

Me: …

Me: Very well.

Me: *knowing I did not save shiz. I was literally just searching for character designs on Pinterest*

Note: I haven’t read majority of these manhwas, because none of these men are my type, or they remind me of myself. So yeah… just be warned I don’t know if the story is good or not. Also majority of these works are not male yandere manhwa. Just manhwas in general, mostly otome isekai ones. Arrangement of manhwa lists according to the banner art are always from left to right.

Yandere! Author

Headcanons 1 : Fate’s Final Draft (General)

He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

Manhwa Names: I Have Become The Hero's Rival

Yandere! Isekai! Knight

♡ Sub Story. In his eyes, your defiance isn’t strength—it’s foreplay.

Headcanons 1 : Light’s Last Lament (General)

He was a knight of light… until you turned his world dark.

Manhwa Names: How To Get My Husband On My Side

Yandere! Neurosurgeon

Drabbles

You’re a Pervert, and He’s in Denial.

Your Idea of Flirting? A Box of Body Parts.

“I’d love to get inside your head.” He thought you meant emotionally.

Manhwa Names: How To Live As An Illegal Healer

Yandere! Otome Game

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Crown Prince, Archduke, Supreme Mage, Demon King, War Hero, Master Thief, Enemy Spy, Demon Assassin

Drabbles

How do you escape a yandere harem? Asking for a very distressed friend (me).

How to Turn ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ Into a Very Literal Situation.

"Romance is a garbage genre, but if I have to play, I might as well do it on easy mode."

The love interests were bad. The backup plans are worse.

One of them wants to marry you. The other wants to make sure he never does.

Headcanons 1 : How to Survive a Reverse Harem (You Don’t) (General)

I hate it here.

Manhwa Names:

The Villainess is a Marionette

I Tamed My Ex-Husband's Mad Dog

I Have Become The Hero's Rival

No Place For The Fake Princess

I Became The Wife Of The Male Lead

When Fate Finds Us

Obsidian Bride

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss

♡ Main Story. 🔞"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."

Headcanons 1 : The Bride of Blood (General)

To him, you're perfect. To you, he's just a mission.

🔞"I don't need your love, I need your submission."

Manhwa Names: Roxana

Yandere! Stardom

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Fanboy, Producer, Rival, Hater

Drabbles

A love letter: from a guy who’s watched every movie, probably knows your underwear size.

Rivals, fanboys, and haters all agree: your fanfic is a masterpiece… in the worst way.

Your most devoted fan writes smut better than published authors.

Capitalism By Day, Cock Worship By Night

AO3 Writer: “I just wanted to write smut.” | Society: “No, you leaked classified info.”

Manhwa Names:

A Not So Fairy Tale

Falling For Danger

Debut or Die

Divorce Plan / Divorce Strategy

Yandere! College! Bully & Loser

Oneshots

The worst part? You’ve stopped trying to fight it.

Novella 1 : Torn Between Us

In a world where no one cares, he’s the one who notices you… and that’s frightening.

Trust no one. Not even yourself.

Manhwa Names: Dreaming Freedom

Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend & Cheating Bitch

Drabbles

“You disobeyed me. Again.”

“Miss me?”

“Pray I don’t snap. Because if I do, you won’t survive it.”

Novella 1 : Friction & Fire

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

Some truths are better left buried.

Manhwa Names: I'm Dating A Psychopath

Yandere! Stepfather & Stepdaughter

Novella 1 : Paternal Privilege

He’s your family, but he doesn’t act like it.

🔞Pleasure in every strike, pain in every kiss.

🔞In the end, love is both their salvation and their damnation.

🔞His love is suffocating, but she’s forgotten how to breathe without it.

🔞Love shouldn’t feel like drowning, but he’s the only one who can save her.

She fell, but not by accident. He made sure of it.

Manhwa Names: Your Throne

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[sincerelybubbles]

a. hotchner x reader - crawling through your window

i saw someone post about their fav crawling through a window in the rain and the long-form spencer fic is rotting my brain so enjoy hotch crawling through your window <3

i don't think there are any warnings, lmk if that's wrong. also, not proof read, I am back to my usual bullshit

The knock on your door was probably easy to miss. You wouldn’t know, though, because you didn’t hear it.

You were in the kitchen, hunched over the counter, forehead pressed to the cool marble as you debated whether or not another cup of coffee would actually be helpful at this point or just make the buzzing in your head worse. The case had been brutal. Messy, exhausting, the kind that left shadows under everyone’s eyes and an ache in your bones that no amount of stretching could shake.

Nausea builds deep in your navel, a resounding sign that you need to go to sleep, and soon.

You had ignored your phone when it rang earlier. The thought of answering it, of extending your exhaustion into another conversation, had felt impossible. And now, lost in your haze of weariness, you missed the second attempt at contact.

It wasn’t until the faintest creak from somewhere inside your apartment—somewhere that shouldn���t have been occupied—reached your ears that you felt the first tendrils of alarm coil around your spine.

You straightened, heart picking up speed, blood surging in your veins as your mind catalogued the possible explanations. The locked door. The windows—

Your bedroom window had been cracked open to let the storm air in earlier.

And now, standing in the dim light of your apartment, soaked from head to toe, rainwater dripping onto your floor, stood Aaron Hotchner.

Your mouth opened, words tangling, tripping over each other, before settling on a very eloquent:

“What the—Aaron?”

His expression didn’t change. If anything, the faintest flicker of exasperation crossed his features, a barely-there pinch between his brows.

“The door was locked.”

A beat of silence.

You blinked.

“I—” You shook your head, taking a step back like that might help you process this. “Are you breaking into my apartment?”

He sighed, heavy, dripping water like a crime scene in your doorway. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

“…So you climbed through my window?”

“I took the fire escape.”

“Oh, well, that’s so much better.”

You stared at him, stunned, watching the way his soaked dress shirt clung to his arms, how his tie was askew, his hair darkened and sticking to his forehead from the rain. His jacket was nowhere to be seen, and he was standing there, entirely unbothered by the fact that he had just climbed into your apartment in the middle of a downpour like some kind of brooding, law-abiding criminal.

The absurdity of the situation was just shy of sending you into a laughing fit. Instead, you rubbed your hands down your face, exhausted in a way that felt almost separate from the case now.

“I can’t believe you,” you muttered, shaking your head as you finally moved, stepping around him to grab a towel from the hall closet.

When you turned back, he was still watching you, carefully, the way he always did—assessing, reading, cataloguing your reaction. The way you hadn’t been answering your phone. The way you were still drained, that bone-deep exhaustion sitting behind your eyes.

Aaron never failed to make you feel seen - for better or for worse. With your messy hair, smeared makeup, and stained sweats, you're not sure how you feel about the in-depth examination your boyfriend is currently giving you.

Aaron would never do anything to make you feel even remotely uncomfortable or ugly but self-consciousness creeps through you, anyway.

You shoved the towel at him.

“You’re actually insane,” you informed him.

He took it, finally moving to scrub some of the rain from his face and hair. “And you should answer your phone. You know, before I feel the need to crawl through your third-story apartment window to check on you.”

"You can just say you miss me, you know." Teasing him is easier with your back to him, planning on warming him up some tea - coffee was out of the question now that he's here, there's no chance he's letting you caffeinate yourself further.

"I missed you," Aaron says, arms snaking around your waist and nose settling in the curve where your shoulder and neck meet. "And I was worried. And I wanted to ask if I could spend the night before we're thrown back into work tomorrow. Is that wrong?"

Fluttering at the base of your stomach erupts instantly at the tone of his deep voice, tone open, honest, and raw.

"Someone's tired," you say, voice soft, hands reaching up to grasp at his forearms. It's not that Aaron isn't affectionate, far from it, but he usually goads into your teasing, resisting for the fun of the give and take. Instead, he's leaning his weight on you, breathing in your scent heavily.

He also climbed through your window to see you. There's that, too.

"Exhausted. And wet. And now so are you." With a flex you can feel through his soaked dress shirt, Aaron lifts you easily and begins walking backward into your room. "I think that means I'm entitled to a shower."

"Aaron!" You giggle out, leaning back against him in lieu of fighting. Your incredibly loving, handsome, and usually-stern boyfriend is carrying you to the shower - who are you to complain?

[empressdede]

The Secretary

Chapter One

Serena never imagined she’d be working for the Roman Reigns. When she applied for the position as his personal secretary, she thought it was just another corporate gig within WWE. But being responsible for the schedule, travel plans, and endless media requests of the Undisputed Universal Champion? That was a whole new level of chaos.

At first, Roman barely acknowledged her beyond short nods and clipped sentences. He was intimidating, always focused, and rarely showed anything but professionalism. But over time, something changed.

It started small - Serena learning how he liked his coffee without him ever telling her. Then came the way she organized his calendar so he could spend more time with his family, something he clearly noticed. Eventually, he started talking to her beyond just business - about his cousin’s jokes, his kids’ antics, even the exhaustion of always being The Tribal Chief.

One night, long after most of the office had cleared out, they were still there. Roman sat behind his desk, rubbing his temples, while Serena sorted through the latest batch of emails.

"You don’t have to stay this late," he murmured, watching her from under furrowed brows.

She smirked, not looking up. "If I don’t, you’ll forget half your appointments and double-book yourself again."

He exhaled a low chuckle. "You got me there."

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The office lights cast a soft glow, making everything feel quieter, more intimate. Serena suddenly felt the weight of his gaze, and when she finally met his eyes, there was something there - something neither of them had acknowledged before.

She knew this was dangerous. He was her boss. The most powerful man in WWE.

Yet, for a brief second, she didn’t care.

Roman stood, slowly walking around the desk, his imposing presence making her heart pound. He stopped just inches away, his fingers grazing the papers in her hands, the warmth of his body radiating toward her.

"Serena…" His voice was lower now, almost hesitant.

She swallowed hard, knowing where this was going. Or at least, where it could go. Her breath caught as his hand reached up; whether to touch her face or just brush away a stray strand of hair, she didn’t know.

It would be so easy to lean in. To close the gap.

But reality crashed down on her like a steel chair.

If she let this happen, everything would change. And she couldn’t afford to lose this job - lose him- over one reckless moment.

So she stepped back, forcing a small smile. "I should go," she whispered.

Romans jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop her. He just nodded once, his expression unreadable.

Serena turned, walking toward the door with steady steps, even as her heart raced. Just before she left, she glanced over her shoulder.

He was still standing there, watching her.

And for the first time, she wondered if she was making the right choice - or the biggest mistake of her life.

Next

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Yall Ready for something New? 🤣 Might Post chapter two later today, JUST BECAUSE! Lmk if yall like it or if I should just… keep it in the draftss😭

Tagging the lovelies: @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @pr0tost4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00

If you want to be added to my taglist in all stories please say so HERE

[ramp-it-up]

https://www.tumblr.com/noellez-best-life23/775232829230546944?source=share Hi!! It was this one, I think it should work! And can't wait for the next chapter!

Oh, My. Oh, Nonnie. 🥵

Yes, that look was (excuse me, I have to wipe my mouth).

VERY Inspirational.

And it is the week of love. Why the hell not?

And thank you for the ask, Nonnie! This actually helped me with the next chapters of the story. 😉

Smut under the cut

Bespoke

Summary: You have to express your feelings about how Bucky looks in that suit.

Word count: 500 ish

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This drabble is in the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after both Worth the Fall and the Steve Rogers fic Peach VI.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Furmoasa prepared to gossip, lust, Bucky Barnes being smoking hot, spitting, implied blow job. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

You walked into Bucky's closet the early afternoon of the gala with piping hot tea that you were going to spill. You knew he was in there getting his suit together for the gala.

“Oh my God, Bucky! Peach and Steve are….”

You lost your train of thought when you saw what was happening.

Bucky was standing in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt in the sleeves of his tailored suit jacket. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and the pants fit his slim waist perfectly.

"Those two fools are fucking? It was only a matter of time..."

You’d seen him in suits before.

Many times. 

But something about this moment, the effortless way he moved, his broad shoulders in the suit coat, and the sweet wrinkles of concentration on his brow hit you like a damn freight train.

That, combined with the extra floof in his hair from his fingers raking through it and the fact that he was barefoot made you feral as fuck.

He looked so handsome and he wasn’t even trying.

You stopped in the doorway of the closet, biting your lip as you took him in.

Bucky caught the reflection of you ogling him in the mirror and a slow smirk graced his face.

“See something you like, Frumoasă?”

You looked at him in the mirror and licked your lips.

“You have no idea.”

Bucky turned around and in a moment, you were on him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the muscles there under the expensive cotton broadcloth and grazing over the exposed skin at his collar.

You craned your neck to run your lips along the whiskers that adorned his sharp jaw line and then trailed kisses down his neck, unbuttoning the rest of the fastenings on the shirt.

Bucky chuckled, running his hands down your sides and landing on your ample hips.

“Baby…”

“Shut up,” you murmured against his skin, biting down on his collarbone just enough to make him hiss.

“Jesus. It’s just a tux, Frumoasă.”

You shook your head, pushing him backward out of the closet and toward the edge of the bed. You didn't hesitate to cop a feel of his pecs.

“No. It’s you in the tux. My sexy ass man.” 

Your hands slid lower, teasing over his belt and cupping his now hard cock.

“Looking like this.”

Bucky let out a low groan, his head tilting back slightly as you sank to your knees. You were busy unbuckling his belt like a mad woman and looking up at him with those eyes.

“Fuck, Doll. The hair and makeup people will be here in…” 

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall on the floor.

“You probably want to take all this shit off, because I’m about to get real nasty.”

You leaned forward and nuzzled his sac through his boxer briefs.

Bucky’s eyes dilated as he grabbed your hair. He looked down at you and the black of his pupils was taking over the blue. He gave you a wicked grin as he kicked the pants away from him and took off the shirt and jacket, flinging them on the nearest chair.

“You are going to be the death of me.”

You grinned as you tied your hair up. Bucky took off his underwear and sat on the edge of the bed as you took him in your grip and spit on his cock. You watched it drip down his balls, then you replied.

“Then I'll suck your soul out for you.”

------

Let me know if you like it!

[concretejunglefm]

Obsession.

Have you ever craved somebody so much that you literally ache?

Summary: Ever since Noah first laid eyes on you, you’ve been the object of his desires and occupied his thoughts. However, there’s one catch—you’re Jolly’s girlfriend.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x f!reader (Jolly's girlfriend) with mentions of Jolly Karlsson.

CW: Heavy pining and slight patheticness from Noah.

AN: The timeline and progress of this little story may be skewed, and there’s definitely an unreliable narrator in the form of Noah.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Noah can’t stop thinking about you. Since Jolly introduced you as his new girlfriend, you’ve been the only thing on his mind.

There should’ve been some guilt for this, especially when his thoughts about you turned to lust, leading him to fantasize about you and give in to his urges, where he would say your name like a prayer every time he came over his hand and stomach. Even when you were just meters away in the next room, completely unaware of his actions.

It didn’t start that way, though. Initially, everything had been innocent. You were kind, funny, and pretty in a way that made everyone joke that you were too good for Jolly. However, Noah was aware that you were too good for him.

During late summer, when the guys all decided to have a last-minute barbecue, Jolly chose that time to introduce you. 

Noah was aware that he'd been seeing someone, but he didn’t realize how serious it was until he brought you around, eager to show you off like a new trophy. Admittedly, Noah felt a twinge of envy the first time he laid eyes on you.

“And this is Noah,” Jolly breaks the ice, introducing you. Noah offers a timid wave, already feeling the nerves fluttering as he was in your presence. “He’s also my roommate, so you’ll be seeing his pretty face around quite a bit.” 

Noah’s eyes flicker to Jolly and widen with a ‘what the fuck’ type of expression, but the moment you let out a laugh, his eyes fall back onto you, completely captivated by such a beautiful sound. Now all he wants is to hear you laugh again, even if it comes at his own expense.

As the party progresses, everyone starts to mingle and unwind in the relaxed atmosphere. Meanwhile, Noah has become preoccupied with overthinking how to initiate a simple conversation with you. He is so caught up in his own thoughts that he is startled when you finally break the ice.

“That’s a cool tattoo.” 

He glances down to his thigh, where you had gestured to one of his favorite tattoo designs peeking out from beneath his shorts. “Oh, that? Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” He pulls up the end of his shorts, revealing the full Itachi design, standing up slightly as he tries to show it off to you. 

“So cool,” he hears you murmuring as you lean down to fully examine the design. Having you so close to him makes his head dizzy and his heart race.

He quickly fumbles over his words, trying tries his best to prevent himself from being overwhelmed by the thoughts that are rapidly entering his mind. “It's from my favorite anime, Naruto. Have you ever heard of it?” He barely takes a breath before pulling his short leg back down and settling into the garden chair once more. 

As he rattles off random facts and Easter eggs about the show, he can’t help but feel slightly self-conscious. Even as he hears himself, he wants to stop, but your soft smile and nodding in response has him continuing. Somehow, your attentive listening makes him feel compelled to keep going, his lisp occasionally slipping through, causing him to stumble further over his words.

As he finally catches his breath, you speak, “Oh, so is that Naruto?” You point down to his thigh. 

If it weren’t you, he would likely have lectured the person asking, about the difference, but instead, he simply laughs and shakes his head. “No, that’s Itachi.”

“What can you tell me about him?” You ask.

Noah can't tell whether you’re genuinely interested in knowing more or not. However, before he can continue, Jolly intervenes, sweeping a hand across your shoulders while glancing down between you both. 

“Don’t get him started on his anime shows; he’ll never stop talking about them.” The Swede chuckles, and you join in, as does Noah in a manner which feels forced because that comment makes him feel inferior and like Jolly's mocking his interests. 

Noah knows that he’s not. Jolly never says anything with a malicious intent. Nevertheless, he can’t help but feel slighted by it, especially when Jolly invites you to come inside with him, and you bid them all a; “It was nice to meet you all.”

And it was, nice to meet you.

That was six months ago, and somehow, you’re still stuck in Noah’s system. He’s tried dating, hooking up with random girls, and even the occasional girl he knows, but nothing seems to extinguish the flame he holds for you or satisfy the gnawing need he feels for you. 

His inability to perform in those moments also brought any attempt to move on from you to an abrupt halt.

And you accompanying the band on tour only intensified Noah’s longing for you. 

Instead of being able to hide out in his room or leave the house, he was forced to spend the duration of the tour with you. If you weren’t in the sound booth, you were at the side of the stage, watching them perform. If you were staying at the hotel with them, you shared a room with Jolly, which always conveniently seemed to be next to Noah’s own. 

This proximity to you drove him crazy, and it was his reasoning for sneaking into your room one day, just to get himself off over the smell of you still lingering on your sleep shorts—the same pair that he held onto for the rest of your time on tour before they conveniently reappeared in the laundry when you returned home.

Being back has only continued to worsen the situation, especially since you’ve been staying over more frequently than ever. Although Jolly hasn’t officially declared it, you’ve essentially moved in. You spend more nights over than you don’t, and when Jolly isn’t home, you spend your free time with Noah. 

While Noah enjoys and savors these moments, it's still not enough, he still needs and craves more from you. He’s becoming desperate, seeking ways to spend time alone with you that are inconspicuous enough to capture your attention and possibly even your affection, without it becoming too evident what he’s seeking from you.

Tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero

[spidori]

I wish I believed they were going to be brave instead of trying to pull a soulless cash-grab. Because if they were brave, I honestly believe they could do something awesome with this.

I'm serious, hear me out.

These are apex predators, and they are not mammalian. They should be scary lizards that trigger an instinctual fear response if it weren't for marketing pressures.

More importantly, I think the message of radical acceptance, of both the self and others, could actually be strengthened by the dragons not looking cute or approachable.

I have thoughts, so I'll put those below the cut for anyone interested.

If they were brave, they could acknowledge that a lot of the fans of the first movie are adults now, and that they don't have to make the dragons less threatening to avoid scaring the intended audience of young children. I would love to see them really play up the terror angle instead. They could make the dragons not just dangerous, but unsettling, disturbing, the exact opposite of cuddly/approachable. Essentially, you should want to hit them with a shovel at first. Especially since most of them are being controlled, and none of them have learned any of the body language to communicate with humans yet; they should feel other, and that should feel dangerous, at least at first.

If they did that, and added a couple of tweaks throughout the rest of the story, all of a sudden Hiccup's empathy would carry a lot more weight; he's not just befriending what is obviously just a special dog with scales, he's truly looking beyond his deep- and socially reinforced- fear response to empathize.

It would take some extra dialogue tweaks as well, but I think the seeds are all there already in the original script. Honestly, I think it's true to the ideas the original movie script was presenting. The whole message was radical acceptance of the self *and* of others as they are. It's easy to see that message in Hiccup, and how his empathy was the answer even though it was looked down on by everyone around him. It's even present in pretty much all the human characters, with them being comfortable in their own skins, and that contributing to them having or finding a place for themselves. I mean, consider, Stoick isn't framed as wrong for his desire to protect his village, or for using his strength and leadership skills to do so. No, he's framed as wrong for not accepting Hiccup, or the truth about the dragons, and his continued refusal to do so even when it will harm the things he wants to protect. Crucially, it's his acceptance of both his son and Toothless for who they are that acts as both the turning point for the story, and the redemption of his character.

More to my point though, I think that same message of acceptance, including self acceptance, is also present with respect to the dragons. I just think it's easier to take it for granted when it comes to the dragons.

There's lots of little examples, but I think the best one is the dragons' instinctual inability to disobey the Red Death (the queen). It's the mechanism behind the conflict of the first movie. It's not their fault, sure, but it is at the heart of the problem even if it's not the root cause. And it's not like it goes away either since it's also behind the villain in the second movie in basically the same way.

The instinct is not framed as wrong though, and that's key. Acknowledging the instinct is a key step in fixing the root of the problem twisting it towards destruction in the first movie, and in the second movie just acknowledging it and trying to overcome it wasn't quite enough. Toothless couldn't win by overcoming the instinct to obey an alpha, he had to fully accept that part of himself, and that it could coexist alongside the more human bits he'd chosen to incorporate into himself, to achieve self-actualization as an alpha. And Hiccup instantly accepted that part of Toothless, further reinforcing the underlying message that no one is inherently wrong because of who or what they are.

But I digress from my rambling. I think leaning into the dragons looking reptilian and predatory could absolutely work if they were brave about it. If they made them look truly scary, and actively framed that as ok, as not inherently wrong, just inherently different, I think that could slot right into the message at the heart of the story and add nuance, depth, IMPACT to it. If they do that they would earn my praise, even if it doesn't quite end up landing. I just wish I believed, at all, that the people making the decisions were brave enough to do so.

But hey, maybe I'll be proven wrong the same way I was with Wicked. I'll be ecstatic if that ends up being the case.

the live action httyd movie is an insult to us all and should never have been made. how is this slop better than beautiful stylized animation

I want to hit it with a shovel

[leafyeyes417]

Obsession Spiral

Danny was flying high in the sky, heading towards Town Hall. He needed to see Vlad. As he flew, he thought about how he reconciled with him. He had called a temporary truce, and asked Vlad to bring his short term Plasmius Maximus. They both used it, preventing any potential argument from escalating into a ghost fight. Then they had a long hard talk, figuring out the miscommunications and working out most of the problems.

Part of it had been Vlad’s Obsession with Family clashing with his revenge for his belief that Jack is the one who killed him. Danny had managed to get it into his head that stealing someone to form a family would never work. Vlad would do better if he shifted his focus on to creating his own family elsewhere, possibly adopting like Bruce Wayne did.

Danny had also asked for a clear story on Vlad’s Death, despite the taboo. It had been hard but he had agreed Jack was the cause in the end. He had asked Vlad to find a different way to get back at Jack. His nature as a Protective Spirit would not allow Vlad to get his revenge through killing him, but he could look the other way for other things.

Breaking out of his thoughts he turned invisible and slipped into the building, floating into Vlad’s office. Vlad looked up as he appeared. “Daniel! I wasn’t expecting to see you, what with that whole battle with Undergrowth earlier.”

Danny nodded, “Normally I would be taking a nap after the fight, but something has been bothering me and I wanted your opinion on it.”

Vlad frowned. “This seems more serious than just your usual ghost fights. If I can help you I will.”

Danny hesitated but managed to push through his uncomfort, “I’ve been thinking. Ghosts and undead with cores have their Obsessions, which make it healthy for them to focus on those things long term. But Liminals, they only have some ecto in their bodies. Maddie and Jack have been contaminated with ecto a long time and they might as well be living ghosts with how Obsessed they are with hunting ghosts. I don’t know how to check and see, but I’ve been feeling like something is almost… wrong with them. Like they have fallen way too far into obsession and if we don’t break them out of it they will be unrecoverable.”

By the point Danny finished he was hugging himself, face covered in a worried frown as he stared at the floor. Vlad looked off to the side, considering. “I have not given things much thought, but it is possible you are right. Despite my feelings for Jack, he has been… much more one-minded than he used to be.”

Danny looked up at him. “Do you know what we could do? The only thing I can think of is getting them far away from anything ghost and preventing them from working on projects. Which probably means something like a mental health ward or prison…”

Vlad breathed out a sigh. “I will look into it. Why don’t you go ask Frostbite if he knows anything. We might have to involve outsiders and getting the portal in Amity shut down. I know you have been pondering on what you will do after high school. It might be best if you start working on your ability to portal so if we are forced to take that option you can get back to the Realms.”

Danny nodded and then said goodbye. He hoped that they didn’t have to do anything that drastic, but after his trips for Clockwork he generally had a good sense of how things would go. It would probably be hard, but safer for him in the end.

[inkyquillstories]

Trading Medals Part 2: (A Body Swap Story)

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/inkyquillstories/774729028416520192/trading-medals-part-1-a-body-swap-story?source=share Note: This story has a lot more photos and videos (NSFW!) but Tumblr won't let me. If you would like to see the NSFW version, check it out on my discord! https://discord.gg/mMY9wSu4rS

Trading Medals Part 2:

Ethan—now Mark—stirred awake earlier than usual, blinking against the morning light filtering through the blinds. Normally, he’d struggle to get out of bed, groggy and sluggish, but today was different. There was an energy coursing through him, a natural liveliness that felt effortless. He immediately opened his selfie camera to admire himself. As he sat up, the movement alone felt powerful—his arms, his shoulders, even his core engaging in ways his old body never had.

His stomach grumbled. He needed coffee. Moving through the dorm with Mark’s easy, confident stride, he made his way to the kitchenette, instinctively rolling his shoulders as if loosening up for a workout. He reached for the coffee maker, surprised at the way his larger hands completely enveloped the handle of the pot. Even the act of scooping coffee grounds felt different—the extra weight behind his movements, the sheer size of his hands.

As the coffee brewed, he leaned against the counter, absently flexing his fingers and forearms. He lifted his arm, sniffing the faint scent of Mark’s natural musk mixed with the lingering notes of his body wash. It was strange. Not bad—just unfamiliar. When the coffee was ready, he poured himself a cup and took a sip. Even his taste buds felt different; the bitterness wasn’t as overwhelming as it used to be. Maybe Mark just liked stronger coffee.

Still waking up, he decided to freshen up before heading to the gym. Coffee in hand, he walked into the bathroom, turning on the light and stepping up to the mirror. The sight that greeted him was almost surreal—Mark’s face staring back at him, but with his own thoughts and emotions behind those deep-set eyes. He lifted a hand, running his fingers along his jawline, feeling the light stubble. He tilted his head, studying the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the structure of his nose, the fullness of his lips. Mark was attractive—he had always known that—but seeing himself like this, being in this body, made it hit differently.

He set his coffee down and reached for the toothbrush. Even brushing his teeth felt different—the width of his grip on the handle, the strength in his arm as he moved. The minty foam filled his mouth, and he found himself examining his reflection again as he brushed. The toothpaste left a sharp coolness on his tongue, but beneath it, he caught another scent—his own morning breath. Not bad, just different. Huskier? Deeper? He rinsed his mouth and swished with mouthwash before patting his face dry with a towel.

That’s when he caught it. A strong, musky scent clinging to his skin. His armpits.

He hesitated, then lifted an arm experimentally, leaning in to take a cautious whiff. The scent hit him immediately—thicker, more potent than what he was used to. Musky, masculine, layered with the remnants of yesterday’s deodorant and sweat. It wasn’t bad—Mark had always smelled like this after a workout—but experiencing it firsthand was something else. It made him hyper-aware of just how different this body was. Mark's body runs hot, sweats more. No wonder he showers so often.

He instinctively reached for Mark’s deodorant on the counter, twisting the cap open and rolling the cool gel under his arms. The fresh scent mixed with the underlying musk, taming it slightly. Then, for good measure, he grabbed a bottle of cologne from the shelf and gave himself a couple of sprays on the chest and wrists. It was a scent he recognized—Mark had worn it on dates before. Spicy, warm, a little woodsy. He took another deep breath. Better.

Now fully awake and refreshed, Ethan tugged off his shirt, tossing it onto the counter. His breath hitched slightly at the sight of his bare chest. His pecs were well-defined, his abs sculpted. He ran a hand down his torso, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath his fingertips. This wasn’t just looking at Mark’s body anymore—this was his body now.

Turning slightly, he flexed an arm, watching as the bicep swelled impressively. He did it again, fascinated by the way the muscles responded. Damn. No wonder Mark loves this body so much.

He turned his attention lower, running his hands over his obliques, down to his waist, before finally letting out a slow breath. He was big. Bigger than he ever thought he could be.

The thought sent a thrill through him.

Finishing the last of his coffee, Ethan shook himself out of his daze. If he was in Mark’s body, he was going to use it properly. And that meant one thing—he needed to hit the gym.

Grinning at his reflection one last time, he grabbed his gym bag and headed out.

The workout was intense, but his new body handled it with ease. Every lift, every push, every rep felt powerful. He caught his reflection in the mirror—Mark’s tall, muscular physique gleaming with sweat—and smirked. This was his body for the weekend. He rolled his shoulders and flexed, marveling at the way his biceps bulged under the strain.

After the gym, he headed to football practice. The moment he stepped onto the field, muscle memory kicked in. He didn’t have Mark’s exact skills, but his body did. Running drills, catching passes, moving across the field—it all felt strangely natural. The other players joked around with him, completely unaware that the real Mark wasn’t inside. Ethan played along, enjoying the camaraderie, the effortless strength, and the way his deep voice carried over the field. By the time practice ended, Ethan was drenched in sweat. He made his way to the locker room, peeling off the sticky jersey and stepping into the showers.

The bathroom was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Ethan leaned against the sink, his broad shoulders casting a shadow on the tiled wall. His tank top clinging to his sweat-slicked chest, the fabric stretched taut over his pecs. He caught his reflection in the mirror and paused, his eyes scanning over the chiseled lines of his face, the way his dark hair fell just so. He smirked, flexing his biceps instinctively, watching the muscles ripple under his tan skin.

God, he looked good.

His gaze drifted lower, down to the tufts of dark hair that peeked out from under his arms. They were thick, untamed, and—he thought with a flicker of pride—undeniably manly. He lifted his arm slightly, catching the faint scent of his own musk. It was earthy, raw, and something about it made his pulse quicken. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as the smell filled his senses. Damn. He’d never really thought about it before, but there was something about the way he smelled after a workout that was... intoxicating.

He rolled his shoulders, his muscles flexing as he struck another pose in the mirror. His chest was broad, his abs defined, and his arms—he couldn’t help but admire them. He turned slightly, catching the light on his profile, and his breath hitched. Fuck, Mark… rather, he was sexy. His hand drifted to his waistband, fingers brushing against the bulge that was already growing there. He hesitated for just a moment before tugging his shorts down, letting his hard cock spring free.

His reflection stared back at him, eyes dark with desire. He wrapped his hand around his length, giving himself a slow, deliberate stroke. His skin was hot to the touch, and he could feel the heat radiating from his pits as he flexed his arm again. The scent was stronger now, almost overwhelming, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

His grip tightened, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock as he continued to stroke himself. His other hand reached up, fingers threading through the thick hair under his arm. He tugged gently, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. Fuck. He’d never realized how sensitive Mark’s body was, how the slightest touch could make his entire body tremble.

Ethan’s hips bucked involuntarily, his cock slipping through his fist as he lost himself in the rhythm. His reflection was a blur of muscle and sweat, his face flushed with arousal. He could feel the pressure building, his balls tightening as he edged closer to release. He leaned back against the sink, his legs slightly spread as he continued to stroke himself, his pace quickening with each passing second.

His eyes locked onto his own in the mirror, the intensity of his gaze making his heart race. He could see the hunger there, the raw need that he hadn’t even realized was there until now. His hand moved faster, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he felt himself teetering on the edge.

And then, with a guttural groan, he came, his release spurting onto the tiles below. His body shuddered with the force of it, his muscles tense as he rode out the wave of pleasure. He slumped against the sink, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His reflection stared back at him, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

After jerking off, he headed to the showers and turned it on. As the warm water ran over his sculpted body, he took a moment to admire it. The sheer power of his new muscles, the defined lines of his abs, the weight of his broad shoulders—it was intoxicating. He ran his hands over his biceps, flexing slightly, feeling the tension in his arms. Even his scent was different—earthy, strong, unmistakably masculine. The musk of sweat mixed with the lingering scent of Mark’s body wash, a smell Ethan had grown familiar with over three years of rooming together, but now it belonged to him. The deep timbre of his voice hummed as he sighed in satisfaction. He had never felt this alive before.

He explored his body even more. He never felt so manly before. He always knew he was straight but he felt like a straight man born in a gay man’s body. Everything about his physical form “stereotypically” does not exude the type of gender expression he wished he could live.

Meanwhile…

Mark—now Ethan—had an entirely different kind of day.

He woke up later than usual, not having an early practice for once. The first thing he noticed was how much smaller and lighter his body felt compared to what he was used to. He stretched, feeling the slight stiffness of someone who didn’t work out as often.

Curious, he stepped in front of the mirror, staring at his new reflection. He wasn’t used to looking up at his own face. His jawline was softer, his frame more compact, but there was an elegance to it. He lifted his shirt, exposing the lean torso beneath. It lacked the definition he was used to, but there was something oddly freeing about it. He ran his hands over his chest, noticing how smooth it was compared to his usual body.

Flexing his arms, he chuckled at how different they looked—smaller, but still toned in their own way. He moved his hands over his legs, marveling at how much shorter and slimmer they were. Even his feet felt strange, more narrow and delicate. He took a few steps around the room, adjusting to the lighter weight of his movements. There was a new fluidity to them, a different kind of balance. He wasn’t carrying the same mass, the same presence—but he found himself appreciating the change.

For the first time in a long while, Mark wasn’t thinking about football, workouts, or his reputation. He was just… experiencing his body in a completely new way. And though it was weird, it wasn’t entirely bad.

The next day came and Ethan—still in Mark’s body—felt more alive than he ever had before. Every moment as Mark was like living the dream he never dared to admit he had. He walked around campus with confidence, shoulders squared, head high, feeling the weight of his strong, muscular frame commanding attention wherever he went. It was surreal how easily people gravitated toward him now. His teammates respected him. Strangers smiled at him. Girls giggled when he passed by. Even Mark’s usual hangout crew welcomed him without hesitation, treating him as if he had always been one of them.

Football practice was the highlight of his day. The power in his legs when he sprinted, the sheer force behind each throw—every movement felt natural and exhilarating. He relished the feeling of being strong, of pushing his limits and seeing what this body could do. And the best part? No one second-guessed his confidence. He wasn’t the awkward, reserved Ethan anymore. He was Mark, the campus star athlete, the guy everyone wanted to talk to. It was intoxicating.

Despite how much he was enjoying himself, Ethan never let himself get too comfortable. This was still Mark’s life, Mark’s body, and no matter how much he loved the attention and strength, he knew he could never steal it from his best friend. This was temporary, just a fun experience. But still… he couldn’t help but wonder—what would life be like if this was permanent?

Meanwhile, Mark—inhabiting Ethan’s smaller frame—was beginning to appreciate this new perspective on life. At first, it had been jarring to be so much weaker, to not have his usual presence, but the more he embraced it, the more he found things to enjoy. For one, he loved the freedom of eating whatever he wanted without worrying about macros or performance. He spent the afternoon curled up with a book, getting lost in the world of fantasy—something he never made time for before.

Video games, something he’d always brushed off as a waste of time, suddenly made sense to him. He played for hours, captivated by the strategy and storytelling, appreciating why Ethan enjoyed them so much. Even Ethan’s friends were a nice change of pace—deep conversations, nerdy debates, casual game nights. They welcomed him in as if he’d always been one of them, and Mark found himself feeling at home in a way he hadn’t expected.

One thing that caught him off guard, though, was the attention he was getting—from guys. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been checked out before, but it was different now. More frequent. More obvious. Some of Ethan’s friends, people he had never given a second thought to before, were flirting with him, and Mark wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Was it just because he looked different now? Or was it something about the way he carried himself in Ethan’s body? Either way, it was an unexpected thrill.

By Sunday night, both men sat on their respective beds, staring at each other in silence. Neither of them wanted to admit it, but the excitement of returning to their old bodies wasn’t as strong as they thought it would be.

“You ready?” Mark finally asked.

Ethan hesitated before nodding. “Yeah… yeah, let’s do it.”

They retrieved the medallion, each feeling a strange sense of loss. The weekend had been incredible—eye-opening, thrilling—but they knew it was time to go back.

The atmosphere in their dorm room felt oddly familiar as Mark—still in Ethan’s body—peeled off his clothes, gathering them in his arms before handing them over to Ethan. The process was the same as before, yet it carried a different weight now. Unlike the first time, there was no hesitation, no disbelief. They both knew the swap worked. They had spent the entire weekend living each other’s lives, feeling every difference, experiencing what it was like to be someone else. And now, it was time to go back.

Ethan, still in Mark’s muscular frame, stripped down as well, revealing the powerful physique he had gotten so accustomed to. He hesitated for a brief moment, glancing down at the body he had grown to love, before passing Mark’s used clothes over. The scent of sweat and cologne clung to the fabric, a reminder of football practice, of workouts, of being the center of attention. He sighed as he took the smaller, softer clothes from Mark, which smelled fresher—more like books, detergent, and faint traces of tea.

Mark, now holding Ethan’s football-practice-worn shirt, hesitated before wearing it. On impulse, he raised it to his face, taking a deep inhale of the fabric. The scent was strong—musky, earthy, the unmistakable aroma of sweat from an active day—but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it was weirdly familiar now.

Ethan caught the moment instantly, just as Mark had done to him days ago. A slow smirk formed on his face.

“Dude,” Ethan teased, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “you just sniffed my shirt.”

Mark quickly lowered the shirt, eyes darting away. “No, I didn’t.”

“Oh, you totally did.” Ethan laughed, shaking his head. “So, you get it now, huh?”

Mark huffed “Shut up and get dressed.”

Once they were dressed in their original bodies’ outfits, Mark retrieved the medallion, holding it between them. The weight of it felt more significant now. They touched the medallion together, gripping it firmly. Then, just as before, they spoke the words.

Ethan began. 

“I, Mark Christopher Bennett, wish to swap bodies with Ethan Daniel Graves.”

The medallion pulsed. Mark hesitated for only a second before responding:

“I, Ethan Daniel Graves, wish to swap bodies with Mark Christopher Bennett.”

A tingle spread through Mark’s arms. He could feel it creeping along his skin, like static electricity building.

Ethan kept going, his voice steady:

“I, Mark Christopher Bennett, accept Ethan Graves’ body as my own.”

Mark swallowed hard, following suit.

“I, Ethan Daniel Graves, accept Mark Bennett’s body as my own.”

The warmth turned into something hotter, something that crawled through their veins. Their skin tingled, their muscles tightened, and the medallion itself grew almost unbearably warm.

Then, together, they spoke the final line:

Ethan: “I am Ethan Graves, and he is Mark Christopher Bennett.”

Mark: “I am Mark Bennett, and he is Ethan Daniel Graves.”

As soon as the final words of the spell left their mouths, the medallion flared with a brilliant, golden light. A strange force gripped their bodies, like an invisible current pulling at them from the inside out. The shift began with an odd tingling sensation at their cores, rippling outward. It started subtly—a weightlessness in their limbs, a pulling at their extremities—but quickly escalated into something far more intense.

Ethan was the first to feel the changes. His heart was pounding like a drum. He could feel it— the shift, the change, the wrongness of it all. A cold sensation swept through his legs, followed by a strange contraction. His long, powerful thighs seemed to deflate, the solid muscle softening, shrinking, as his femurs shortened. His calves lost their firmness, thinning into their previous lean shape. He looked down, watching as the muscular definition in his calves began to fade, the skin tightening, the strength evaporating. His thighs, once thick and powerful, now looked slender, almost fragile. He wobbled slightly, feeling his entire center of gravity shift. It wasn’t just his legs—his whole body was retracting, his towering height sinking down inch by inch, forcing him to adjust his stance. The commanding presence he had grown used to over the weekend was slipping away with every second, and a pit formed in his stomach.

Mark, meanwhile, gasped as he felt warmth rush into his legs, stretching and expanding them. His feet grew larger, toes elongating, the arches flattening out as they thickened into their usual, well-worn shape. He could feel his legs filling with strength, the bulk of his quads re-emerging, his hamstrings tightening with the familiar density of athleticism. His calves pulsed as they strengthened, forming the thick, muscular contours he had spent years developing. The ground felt further away again, his perspective rising, and a strange mixture of relief and… disappointment curled in his chest. He had missed his body, hadn’t he? Then why did he feel like he was losing something, too?

Ethan swallowed hard as the changes traveled upward. Ethan’s hands instinctively went to his groin. His waist narrowed, his abs tightening but losing the sheer definition they had gained over the weekend. He ran a hand over his stomach, feeling the subtle softness return.

He gasped as he felt his cock begin to shrink, the sensation both surreal and horrifying. He could feel every inch as it receded, the heavy weight he’d grown accustomed to diminishing, leaving him with something far smaller, far less him. He cupped himself, his fingers trembling as they explored the new reality. No, no, no. It wasn’t just the size— it was the thickness, the way it felt in his hand. It was wrong. All wrong.

His chest followed suit—his broad, powerful pecs receding, his shoulders losing mass, his frame returning to its former slim, unassuming, slightly hairy build. The weight of Mark’s strong, sturdy body lifted from him, leaving him feeling… smaller. Weaker. Less. He hated the thought, but it was there, lingering at the edge of his mind.

But as Ethan staggered back, now looking up at Mark once more, an unexpected hollowness settled in his chest. He had told himself all weekend that this was temporary, that he wouldn’t get attached. But now, standing there, watching Mark easily reclaim his towering frame, he felt… small. And not just physically.

Mark’s breath hitched as the sensation began. It started at the very base of his spine, a low, tingling warmth that seemed to pulse outward, spreading like wildfire through his body. He could feel it, really feel it—the way his body was shifting, changing, becoming something else entirely. His hands instinctively went to his crotch, where the most intense part of the transformation was taking place.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with a mix of shock and exhilaration. His once modest cock was growing, stretching, filling in a way that made his head spin. The sensation was overwhelming—every nerve ending in his body seemed to light up at once. It was as if his entire being was being rewritten, reshaped by some unseen force.

The fabric of his jeans strained against his hips as his new size pressed against it, demanding space. Mark’s fingers fumbled with his belt, desperate to free himself, to see what was happening. When he finally managed to unbutton his jeans and pull them down, he gasped.

There it was.

His cock, now thick and heavy, lay against his thigh, pulsing with a newfound intensity. The veins along its length stood out in stark relief, the sheer size of it almost unbelievable. He couldn’t help but reach out, his fingers trembling as he wrapped them around it. The sensation of his own grip was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. His breath came in short, shallow gasps as he marveled at the transformation.

The shift continued, creeping up to their necks. Ethan felt his Adam’s apple retreat slightly, his throat slimming down, his voice box adjusting. He let out a small sound, and immediately, it was different—higher, softer. His heart sank. He had gotten used to Mark’s deep, rich voice, the way it carried weight, how people listened when he spoke. Now, he was back to his normal voice—fine, but lacking the same presence. Meanwhile, Mark rolled his shoulders as his throat thickened, his Adam’s apple becoming more pronounced once more. He instinctively let out a small grunt, and the sound was deep, smooth, confident. It should’ve felt like coming home… so why did he feel like something was missing?

Then came their faces. Ethan winced as his sharp, chiseled features softened, his strong jawline retreating back into its normal, more rounded form. The light dusting of stubble he had admired all weekend vanished, leaving only the sparse, fine scruff he was used to. His black hair lightened, strands shifting back to his usual light brown. He swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment, glancing up at Mark—his body—one last time before his vision blurred and settled again.

Mark, meanwhile, felt his face reshape, his jaw sharpening, his features returning to their usual, striking form. The short, neat cut of his dark hair returned, styled just as he always kept it. His lips parted as he took in the final details of his restored form, flexing his fingers, rolling his shoulders, adjusting to the return of his familiar frame. And yet… his stomach twisted. He looked at Ethan—shorter, leaner, back to his usual self—and felt something he refused to name.

Then Ethan lifted an arm, and his breath hitched. His armpit hair had lightened back to its usual shade—a soft, unimposing light brown. Worse, the scent was gone. Over the weekend, he had been steeped in Mark’s natural musk, strong and masculine. Now? He barely smelled like anything at all. He swallowed, an uncomfortable thought creeping in: I feel… less like a man. He knew it was ridiculous, but it gnawed at him. That strength, that presence, that raw, physical confidence—it was gone, and he hated that he missed it.

Mark, on the other hand, caught a whiff of himself and grimaced. His underarms were back to their usual coarse, dark black, the scent strong, musky, overpowering. He wrinkled his nose, suddenly hyper-aware of the difference. He had spent the weekend smelling cleaner, lighter, and while he had initially mocked it, now… now he felt almost self-conscious. He quickly shook the thought away. This was how he was supposed to be. This was his body. Right?

They stood in silence for a moment, both adjusting, both forcing smiles.

Mark forced a grin and clapped Ethan’s back. “Well, that was fun,” he said, his voice carrying its usual confident weight.

Ethan nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.” His tone was casual, light. But inside, he was screaming.

Neither of them said what they were really thinking. Neither of them admitted they weren’t ready to let go.

-

The room had fallen into a heavy silence after the swap. They were back in their rightful bodies. That was supposed to feel good, wasn’t it? Ethan clenched his hands at his sides, feeling how much smaller his fingers were again, how his palms lacked the rough calluses he had grown accustomed to. He caught himself stealing a glance at Mark, at the way his large, muscular frame filled out his clothes effortlessly. His broad shoulders, his defined arms, the easy way he carried himself—it was a presence Ethan had gotten used to having for himself. Now, he was just Ethan again. Plain, skinny, unimposing Ethan. He tried to shake off the feeling.

Mark was feeling something eerily similar. His eyes flickered toward Ethan, at how much shorter he was, how lean his frame had returned to being. Yet, there was something effortless about it, something… freeing. Mark had spent his whole life training, maintaining his physique, dealing with the expectations that came with his size and strength. Being in Ethan’s body had been strange at first, but by the end, it had felt like he had been unshackled from a weight he didn’t even know he was carrying. He caught himself staring and quickly turned away. No. This was his body. This was who he was. He should be glad to be back.

Both men forced casual conversation, pretending everything was fine. But when they went their separate ways for the night, they each found themselves facing something they weren’t prepared for.

Ethan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his fingers tracing over his jawline—softer, less pronounced than Mark’s. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, missing the darker, heavier locks he had briefly owned. His hands trailed down his arms, feeling the lack of defined muscle, the smaller shape of his wrists. He hesitated before lifting his shirt, his stomach nowhere near as sculpted as it had been before. His chest, narrow and flat, lacked the broadness he had come to love. It was like waking up from the best dream of his life only to realize reality could never compare. He let out a breath, stepping away. It didn’t matter. This was him. He had to accept it… right?

Mark stood in his own dorm’s shower, letting the water cascade down his body. He scrubbed at his arms, his chest, his legs, but he couldn’t wash away the strange discomfort settling inside him. His body was big again, strong, just as it always had been. But after a weekend of feeling lighter, more flexible, not constantly weighed down by muscle and bulk, it felt… suffocating. He exhaled slowly, pressing his hands against the shower wall, letting the steam cloud his vision. He was Mark again. That was what he wanted. So why did it feel like he had lost something?

The next morning, neither of them brought it up. They both threw themselves into their usual routines, pretending everything was back to normal.

Mark found himself sitting in class, foot tapping impatiently. The material felt too easy, too slow. Over the weekend, Ethan’s mind had processed things differently—quicker, sharper. It had been exhilarating, a different kind of strength and he seemed to still have the sharper mind he had when he was in Ethan’s body. 

When practice rolled around, Mark expected to feel the same rush he always did. But as he ran drills, lifted weights, and pushed his body to its limits, something felt… off. It wasn’t that he wasn’t performing well—he was. His strength was back, his endurance solid. But the thrill of it wasn’t hitting the same way. He found his eyes drifting toward the stands, where Ethan was watching, an unreadable look on his face.

Ethan had struggled through his morning classes. The numbers, the equations—things that had come to him so easily before but now felt like an uphill battle. He hated it. He hated how much smaller he felt in his chair, how people barely noticed him like they had before. At lunch, he made a decision. If he couldn’t have Mark’s body, he would do everything he could to make his own better.

That afternoon, Ethan walked into the gym. It was intimidating at first—the towering machines, the heavy weights, the guys twice his size grunting through reps. Normally, he would’ve turned back. But he had been strong once. He had felt it, lived it. He refused to let that feeling go. He started small, sticking to exercises he knew Mark did. He struggled, his muscles burning quicker than he expected, but he pushed through. He had to. Because even if he was back in his own body, he wasn’t willing to let go of what he had felt.

Later, he found himself watching Mark at practice. He wasn’t just admiring—he was analyzing. The way Mark moved, the decisions he made, the power in his stance. Before, Ethan would’ve just seen it as football. Now, he saw what he could have done if he had still been in that body. He caught himself thinking, I would’ve run that play differently. I would’ve done better. He shook his head. No. That wasn’t his place. But the thought didn’t leave him.

Neither of them spoke about it. Not that night. Not the next day. But the feeling lingered, gnawing at them. They were back in their rightful bodies. Then why did it feel so wrong?

Late at night, in the dim glow of their shared dorm room, Mark sat on his bed, his head resting against the wall, staring at the ceiling. Ethan was at his desk, pretending to read, but his eyes weren’t moving over the words. They had been like this for a while—lost in their own thoughts, too afraid to speak aloud what they both felt.

Finally, Mark exhaled heavily. “Something’s wrong with us, dude.”

Ethan turned his chair slightly to face him. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I thought it was just, you know, some weird aftereffect of the swap. But it’s been days.”

Mark shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I keep waiting for things to go back to normal. To feel normal. But…” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Ethan nodded. “I know what you mean.” There was a pause, then a quiet chuckle. “It’s stupid, right? We should be happy we got our bodies back.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed, but the word felt hollow. He stared at his hands, flexing them. They were his hands—big, strong, calloused from years of football. But somehow, they didn’t feel right anymore. He didn’t feel right.

The days dragged on, but that lingering sense of wrongness never faded. And then, one day, Mark made a mistake.

“Hey, Mark, can you—” Mark stopped mid-sentence, realizing his slip. His stomach twisted.

Ethan turned to him, eyes wide. “You… you just called me Mark.”

Mark winced. “Shit. I didn’t mean—”

“No,” Ethan interrupted. He took a deep breath, then said, “I liked it.”

Mark stared at him. “You did?”

Ethan hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. I don’t know why, but… it felt right. Just for a second.”

Mark let that sink in. Then, slowly, he said, “What if… what if we just do it? Just in here. Call each other by the other’s name when we’re alone.”

Ethan’s heart pounded and his groin felt buzzed, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

And so they did. At first, it was just an experiment, a little game they played behind closed doors. But it became more than that. It became habit. It became comfortable.

Then, a few days later, Ethan frowned as he stood in front of his closet. His usual wardrobe—loose hoodies, skinny jeans, graphic tees—suddenly felt… wrong. Off. He picked up one of his shirts and turned to Mark, hesitating before speaking. “Hey… can I borrow some of your clothes?”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Mine?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. These just don’t feel right anymore.”

Mark shrugged. “Go ahead, man.”

Ethan slipped into one of Mark’s t-shirts—a simple, fitted athletic tee—and it felt better. He turned in the mirror, noting how it clung to his frame, how it carried Mark’s scent. He liked it.

But soon, Mark started feeling the same way about his own wardrobe. The baggy sweatpants, the well-worn football jerseys, the compression shorts—none of it felt good. One evening, he hesitated before pulling one of Ethan’s sweaters off the hanger and slipping it on. It was softer, cozier. It smelled like Ethan. And it felt right.

Their closets blurred as they both started borrowing more and more. Eventually, they weren’t even asking. They were just taking.

Then, one night, Mark hesitated again before speaking. “Hey… I got another weird request.”

Ethan turned to him, curious. “What is it?”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “I… I don’t like my bed. It smells like me. And I don’t like my smell anymore.”

Ethan’s breath hitched. “You want to swap beds?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah.”

Ethan swallowed, then nodded back. “Okay.”

They swapped beds that night, and for the first time in days, they both slept peacefully.

But it didn’t stop there.

Mark hesitated the next day before bringing up his final request. “What if… what if we swapped clothes, too? Not just from the closet. I mean… worn clothes. So we can, you know, smell like each other. Like we used to.”

Ethan’s pulse quickened. He didn’t even have to think. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

That night, Mark pulled on Ethan’s button-up shirt, the fabric already carrying his scent. Ethan tugged on one of Mark’s t-shirts, the musk thick and familiar. They settled into their swapped beds, breathing in each other’s scent, feeling more at ease than they had since returning to their original bodies.

Neither of them spoke, but in the quiet, they both knew the truth.

They didn’t want to go back.

They just wanted to be each other again.

It started small. Ethan, already borrowing Mark’s clothes, found himself reaching for more than just oversized hoodies and athletic joggers. His eyes lingered on Mark’s guitar, the sleek instrument resting in its stand, untouched since they had swapped back. At first, he only plucked a few strings, pretending it was just curiosity. But soon, he was playing more often, strumming absentmindedly as he lounged in Mark’s bed, sinking into the familiar but foreign scent of his former body.

Meanwhile, Mark had taken to Ethan’s bookshelf. He had never been much of a reader before, but there was something soothing about curling up in Ethan’s old bed, flipping through fantasy novels and sci-fi epics. He told himself it was a way to reconnect with his roommate, a way to understand him better, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was the comfort of familiarity—the feeling that he was reclaiming something that had been lost.

The exchange deepened. Ethan, once hesitant about the gym after the swap, now felt an itch he couldn’t shake. His body was weaker, smaller, and he hated it. He started using Mark’s gym equipment, struggling at first but determined to regain even a fraction of the strength he had once known. The weights were heavier than he remembered, his endurance lacking, but he pushed through, clinging to the memory of what it felt like to be powerful.

Mark, on the other hand, found himself at Ethan’s desk more often than his own. Ethan’s computer, complete with a high-end gaming setup, had become his new retreat. At first, he just watched streams, but soon he was logging in, playing Ethan’s favorite games, and even messaging Ethan’s online friends as if nothing had changed. However, he can’t use the mic cause Ethan’s friends would know that he’s actually Mark. Now, even though the games remained the same, he felt like an outsider in his own hobby.

The contrast was stark. Mark struggled at football practice, going through the motions but lacking the fire he once had. He found himself dreading the drills, the tackles, the weight of expectation that came with his original body. Ethan, watching from the stands, clenched his fists. He wanted to be the one out there, wanted to push himself, run drills, score points. He missed the rush, the sweat, the exhaustion that had once felt so natural.

Then came the dating profile. Mark had suggested it as a joke at first, but when Ethan hesitated and then agreed, it became real. Using Ethan’s pictures and name, Mark crafted a profile, carefully curating messages, making connections. 

When he met Greg, it felt exciting, refreshing. They bonded over shared interests, and Mark felt seen in a way he hadn’t in a while. But when Greg suggested meeting in person, reality came crashing down.

Mark showed up to the date, nerves tight in his stomach. He had rehearsed his confession—how he was the one Greg had really been talking to—but the moment he sat down, Greg’s expression shifted. It wasn’t the same warmth, the same excitement. Greg wasn’t interested in him. He was interested in Ethan—the Ethan from the pictures, the Ethan who Mark had pretended to be.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Mark forced a smile and lied. “Ethan couldn’t make it,” he said, ignoring the hollow feeling in his chest as Greg’s disappointment settled in. The evening was over before it had even begun.

That was the final straw. Mark immediately returned to the dorm, his heart pounding. He found Ethan at his desk, fiddling through Mark’s phone, and without hesitation, he spoke the words neither of them had dared to say since the swap ended.

“I want to switch back.”

Ethan’s shoulders sagged with sheer relief the moment Mark suggested swapping bodies again. The tension that had been simmering inside him for weeks melted away, replaced by a deep, visceral yearning to be back where he belonged. “You have no idea how badly I wanted this,” he admitted, voice almost breathless.

Mark let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Dude, I’ve been dying over here. I feel like I’ve been acting every single day since we switched back.” He glanced at Ethan—at himself—at the body he missed so much. “Let’s do it. Right now.”

They didn’t hesitate. They all but lunged for each other’s clothes, stripping off their current clothes with eager hands and swapping them out for the other’s. Mark shimmied into one of Ethan’s T-shirt, breathing in its clean, light scent, while Ethan pulled on one of Mark’s musky jerseys, reveling in the deep, masculine odor that clung to the fabric. Both men, as if synchronized, lifted the collars of their shirts to their noses, inhaling deeply, drinking in the scent of the body they so desperately wanted to reclaim.

Ethan exhaled shakily. “God, this feels so right.”

Mark nodded, practically giddy, fumbling to pull the medallion from its box. “Then let’s stop wasting time.” Their hands grasped the cold metal together, fingers shaking not with hesitation but with anticipation. They locked eyes, no longer pretending this wasn’t what they both wanted. Then, together, they chanted the incantation.

Mark took a deep breath and began the incantation:

“I, Mark Christopher Bennett, wish to swap bodies with Ethan Daniel Graves.”

The medallion pulsed. Ethan immediately responded. 

“I, Ethan Daniel Graves, wish to swap bodies with Mark Christopher Bennett.”

Mark kept going, his voice steady:

“I, Mark Christopher Bennett, accept Ethan Graves’ body as my own.”

Ethan swallowed hard, following suit.

“I, Ethan Daniel Graves, accept Mark Bennett’s body as my own.”

The warmth turned into something hotter, something that crawled through their veins. Their skin tingled, their muscles tightened, and the medallion itself grew almost unbearably warm.

Then, together, they spoke the final line:

Mark: “I am Ethan Graves, and he is Mark Christopher Bennett.”

Ethan: “I am Mark Bennett, and he is Ethan Daniel Graves.”

The medallion flared to life, golden light spilling from its surface, wrapping around them in tendrils of energy. A deep pulse reverberated through their bones, starting at their cores and stretching outward. The shift was immediate—rapid, intoxicating, perfect.

Ethan felt his body expand and strengthen, his feet widening, muscles thickening, and his stance shifting as he regained Mark’s powerful physique. The transformation surged through him, filling his frame with the familiar weight and strength he had missed, sending a shuddering thrill through his core. Mark, meanwhile, trembled as his body shrank, his muscular bulk dissolving into Ethan’s leaner form. Instead of resisting, he embraced it, reveling in the newfound lightness and precision of his smaller frame

As the transformation reached their underarms, Ethan inhaled deeply, shivering with satisfaction as his thick, dark hairs and potent musk returned, grounding him in his true, masculine form. Mark, in contrast, sighed in relief as his armpit hair lightened, his scent softening into something fresher, more comfortable. Their voices followed suit—Ethan’s deep, commanding timbre rumbled through his chest, while Mark’s returned to its lighter, casual tone, both of them reveling in the familiarity. Finally, their faces reshaped—Ethan’s jaw sharpened, his stubble reappearing as he smirked at his own reflection, while Mark’s features softened, his hair lightening to its natural shade. As they stared at themselves, a shared sense of euphoria settled between them—this was right.

They were finally back.

Ethan flexed his arms again, rolling his shoulders, letting out a laugh that was half relief, half exhilaration. “God, I feel amazing.”

Mark mirrored the motion, stretching his more nimble frame, his grin splitting wider. “Dude, this is exactly how we’re supposed to be.”

They locked eyes, their bodies thrumming with satisfaction, with rightness. The pretending was over. This was where they belonged. But then, the new Ethan immediately said goodbye to the new Mark and left to see Greg. This gave the new Mark some privacy to enjoy being his true self. 

“Fuck yes,” Mark groaned, his voice low and husky as he stood in front of the mirror, his hands roaming over his own body. His reflection stared back at him, every inch of his muscular frame glistening under the dim light of his dorm room. He couldn’t believe it. He was back. His broad shoulders, his chiseled abs, his thick, veiny arms—everything was exactly as it should be. He flexed his bicep, watching the muscle ripple under his skin, and a satisfied grin spread across his face. “I’m Mark again. Finally.”

It had been a nightmare. A fucking nightmare. One minute, he was just a college jock, living his best life, the star of the football team, the envy of every guy on campus. Next, he was trapped in the body of a nerd even though this nerdy body used to be his own. He’d felt like a prisoner in his own skin, every day a reminder of what he’d lost. But now? Now he was back. And he wasn’t wasting a single second.

Mark’s hands moved down his chest, his fingertips brushing over the hard ridges of his abs. He shivered, the sensation electric. It had been so long since he’d felt like this. His cock twitched, already half-hard just from the thrill of being in his own body again. He let out a breathy laugh, his eyes still locked on his reflection. “God, I missed this,” he whispered, his voice trembling with need. “Missed me.”

His hands trailed lower, over the coarse hair that led down to his cock. He was huge. Always had been. Even soft, he was impressive, but now? Now he was rock hard, his length straining against his stomach. He wrapped his fist around himself, his breath hitching at the contact. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. It had been ages since he’d felt this good. Ages since he’d been able to touch himself and feel like himself.

Mark’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he stroked himself, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. But he couldn’t keep his eyes off his reflection for long. He wanted to see himself. Wanted to watch every muscle flex and twitch as he pleasured himself. Wanted to see the way his cock throbbed in his hand, the way his abs tightened with every stroke. He was obsessed. With his body. With himself.

His other hand moved up to his chest, his fingers pinching and twisting one of his nipples. He let out a low moan, his head falling back for a moment before he forced himself to look back at the mirror. He wanted to feel it all. Every inch of himself. From the tops of his broad shoulders down to the tips of his toes. He wanted to know he was back. Wanted to know this was real.

Mark’s hand slid up to his face, his fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. He was handsome. God, he was handsome. The kind of guy that turned heads wherever he went. He’d always known it, but now? Now he felt it. He felt everything. His skin was on fire, every touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. He was alive. And he wasn’t stopping.

His hand moved to his armpit, the coarse hair tickling his palm. He’d always loved his armpits. They were manly. Masculine. Everything about him screamed alpha male, and his armpits were no exception. He inhaled deeply, the musky scent of his own sweat making his cock throb in his hand. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking forward as he stroked himself faster. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”

Mark’s eyes locked onto his reflection, his gaze intense as he watched himself fall apart. His muscles were flexed, his body taut with pleasure. His breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was close. So fucking close. And he wasn’t holding back.

“I’m Mark,” he growled, his voice low and guttural. “I’m Mark. And I’m not letting go of this body ever again.” His hand moved faster, his strokes rough and desperate. He could feel the heat building in his gut, the pressure coiling tight. He was so close. So fucking close.

His eyes fluttered shut as he came, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. “Fuck!” he shouted, his voice raw and ragged. His cock pulsed in his hand, streams of cum shooting onto his chest and stomach. He kept stroking himself, milking every last drop of pleasure from his body. He was fucking wrecked. And he loved it.

Mark’s legs gave out, and he collapsed onto his bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He was still hard, his cock twitching as he lay there, his cum cooling on his skin. He couldn’t stop smiling. He was Mark.

Ethan’s heart pounded as he stared at his phone—missed call. Panicked, he sprinted back to the restaurant, dialing Greg.

Greg answered on the second ring. “Ethan. You stood me up.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ethan blurted. “I panicked. But I want to make it up to you. Please.”

A pause. Ethan held his breath.

“You’ve got one shot,” Greg said. “Thirty minutes.”

“I’ll be there.”

When Ethan arrived, Greg was at a corner table, broader and more imposing than he remembered. That confident smile made Ethan’s stomach flip.

“You made it,” Greg said smoothly. “Sit.”

Ethan obeyed, apologizing with a half-truth. Greg’s gaze was steady, unreadable. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

The conversation flowed, Greg’s teasing easing Ethan’s nerves. By the time they left, Ethan was laughing freely.

As they walked, Greg’s hand brushed his. A spark shot through Ethan. Greg noticed, smirking.

At his car, Greg’s voice dropped. “Two options—I take you home, or…” He stepped closer, eyes flickering to Ethan’s lips.

Ethan’s breath caught. “Or what?”

Greg leaned in. “Or you come back to my place.”

Ethan’s mouth went dry. This is happening. Oh my God, this is actually happening. “Your place,” he said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Greg’s smile widened. “Good choice.”

Greg’s apartment was exactly what Ethan expected—clean, modern, and masculine. The couch looked like it had never been sat on, and there were dumbbells scattered around the living room. Of course Greg had a home gym.

“You drink?” Greg asked, heading to the kitchen.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Ethan hovered awkwardly by the couch, unsure of what to do with himself.

Greg returned with two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Ethan. “Cheers.”

They clinked glasses, and Ethan took a cautious sip. The alcohol burned his throat, but it did little to calm his nerves. Greg’s presence was overwhelming—everything about him was big, from his broad chest to his deep voice to the way he filled the room.

Greg set his glass down and turned to Ethan, his expression serious now. “You sure about this?”

Ethan nodded quickly. Too quickly. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Greg stepped closer, crowding Ethan’s space. “You’re not gonna chicken out on me again, are you?”

“No,” Ethan breathed, his heart racing. “I promise.”

Greg’s hand came up to cup Ethan’s face, his thumb brushing over his cheek. “Good.” His voice was soft now, almost tender. “Because I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

And then he kissed him.

It was slow at first, teasing—Greg’s lips brushing against Ethan’s, testing, exploring. But then Ethan made a small, desperate noise in the back of his throat, and Greg’s hand tightened in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, turning hungry, and Ethan felt like the ground was falling out from under him.

Greg’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and Ethan moaned, his hands clutching at Greg’s shirt. God, he’s good at this. Everything about Greg was overwhelming—his size, his strength, the way he seemed to know exactly what Ethan wanted.

When Greg finally pulled away, Ethan was dizzy, his lips swollen and his chest heaving. “Bedroom,” Greg murmured, his voice rough with want.

Ethan nodded, too breathless to speak. Greg took his hand, leading him down the hall, and Ethan’s knees felt like jelly. This is really happening. I’m really about to—

Greg pushed open the bedroom door and turned to Ethan, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re mine tonight.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yours,” Ethan whispered, his voice trembling.

Greg’s hands were on him then, pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside. His fingers traced over Ethan’s chest, his touch firm but gentle. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Greg murmured, his voice low and husky. “Such a good boy for me.”

Ethan whimpered at the praise, his body trembling under Greg’s hands. God, I’ve never wanted anyone like this. He felt small, vulnerable, and he loved it. Greg’s strength, his confidence—it made Ethan feel safe, cherished.

Greg’s lips found his neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin, and Ethan gasped, his hands clutching at Greg’s shoulders. “Greg, please—”

“What do you want, baby?” Greg’s voice was a low growl against his skin. “Tell me.”

“You,” Ethan breathed. “I want you.”

Greg smirked against his neck. “Good answer,” he said, his hands sliding down to Ethan’s waist. “Now let’s see how much you can take.”

-

Their final year in college was a testament to how perfectly they had settled into their new roles. Though they never spoke of the swap outside the safety of their dorm room, they both felt it in their bones—this was who they were meant to be.

Ethan—now Mark—thrived on the field. He had long since adapted to the routine of grueling workouts, early morning drills, and team camaraderie. He loved the way his body felt—strong, powerful, capable. There was a unique satisfaction in feeling his biceps flex after an intense lifting session or catching his reflection in the gym mirrors and seeing broad shoulders and thick muscle where once there had been none. He even grew out a mustache, enjoying the way it added a new edge to his rugged face. He relished in his musk, embracing the heady scent of sweat and testosterone that clung to him after practice. It was his now, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Of course, he couldn't let Ethan—now in his old body—slack off. More than once, he’d poke fun at him, ruffling his soft brown hair and jokingly calling him “tiny” whenever Ethan struggled to reach something on a high shelf. "C'mon, man, you used to be a beast! You can't just let yourself wither away now."

Ethan—now fully comfortable as the smaller, bookish one—would groan in protest but always gave in. He still hated lifting weights, but a part of him enjoyed how much Mark cared. The teasing was never mean-spirited, just another way they had grown closer. So, begrudgingly, Ethan let himself be dragged to the gym every now and then, if only to humor Mark.

Despite the change in physique and interests, Ethan remained true to himself. He poured himself into his studies, reveling in his engineering courses and his love for Dungeons & Dragons. The biggest difference now was that he could fully embrace his sexuality without fear. He and Greg grew closer, and for the first time in his life, he felt comfortable bringing someone home for the holidays. Ethan’s family, far more accepting than Mark’s had been, welcomed Greg with open arms. It was a relief—a confirmation that in this new life, he could finally be himself in every way that mattered.

Mark, meanwhile, was thriving in ways he hadn’t expected. His love for physical activity only grew, but he also found himself enjoying the things Ethan had once held dear. He still read books—though now they were sports biographies or novels about perseverance and ambition. He found a surprising enjoyment in quiet evenings, even if he no longer had the patience for intricate role-playing games. He also found love in an unexpected place, meeting a girl who challenged him in all the right ways. She adored his playful arrogance, his athleticism, and the way he could make her laugh. For the first time in a long while, he felt genuinely content going as far as going on trips with her.

Graduation day was a culmination of all their efforts, and they couldn’t have been prouder of each other. Ethan, now a decorated graduate with honors, walked across the stage to receive his medal for academic achievement, the crowd applauding his hard work and intellect. Mark, standing tall in his cap and gown, received his own medal—not for academics, but for the championship game that had sealed his legacy in the school’s football history.

After the ceremony, they found each other in the chaos of excited graduates and proud families. Mark—now Ethan—held up his medal with a proud grin. "Guess I'm the nerd now, huh?"

Ethan—now Mark—chuckled and twirled his own medal between his fingers. "And I’m the jock. Feels right, doesn’t it?"

They shared a knowing look, an unspoken agreement between them. This was where they belonged. They had stopped questioning it long ago. They weren’t just pretending anymore. They were exactly who they were always meant to be.

And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

[httpknjoon]

say goodnight and go | myg

plot | that time when everyone seemed to be doing something on valentine's day and the popstar and her bassist have all the time with their single asses.

w.c | 3.3k

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | enemies to lovers, popstar x bassist, fluff, angst

note | wrote this last-minute today, just something short n sweet for valentines. enjoy!

main masterlist | series masterlist | want to request?

DAY 93: SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

Your fans from South Korea are one of your most active fanbases, always showering you with praises and support through social media. You even heard one of your songs becoming a trend on their online platforms, with celebrities and big local personalities doing it. So to show appreciation for them, you and your management decided to stay in the country for a longer amount of days.

So far, you have done your back-to-back concerts, variety show appearances, and media interviews, making sure that your fans will get a lot of content. You also got to do some shopping in Myeongdong with Cal and Paul in your first two days in the country since you know how great everyone's skincare products are.

"Are you going out?"

It's your last day before you leave for another country tomorrow. You sat on the nook near the big window of your hotel room, overviewing the busy streets of Seoul, when Cal came in and checked on you.

"I would love to, but I don't like to see couples eating each others' faces on the street." you shuddered in exaggerated disgust, Cal laughed in response.

Tearing your eyes off the scene, you see your assistant all dressed up. From her usual jeans and dark-colored hoodie, she wore and pastel green coat dress and white boots. She also wore white fuzzy gloves, tights, and a scarf for the winter weather outside. Her hair is also styled in soft waves.

"You are so, so pretty." you smiled as she gave you a twirl. "Where are you and your fiance heading?"

She looks up, recalling her agenda for the day, "We're going to Nami Island, I think. I don't really know. Art planned the whole thing."

"Sounds nice."

You tried to smile before looking back to the window. A sense of heaviness sits on your chest as you hug your knees closer to your body, resting your chin on it. The feeling you have been trying to avoid today, Valentine's Day, cannot help but revive itself in your system. But it has been looming over you for a while now, especially in Seoul, where there are a lot of lovely, cute couples everywhere.

"You okay?" Cal asked, sensing your aura shifting.

"I am, I am!" You turned to look at her again, smiling to reassure her. "Now, go on and enjoy that date. We know Art has a low tolerance for waiting."

She chuckled before giving you a quick hug that you know means well. As soon as the door closed, you were back staring outside the glass. You watched the cars move in different directions, and people walked around places. You watched almost twenty-two stories over them, but your mood cannot keep up and remained low ever since you woke up today.

For the first time in years, you are alone in this day of romance. You tried to stay optimistic about it, thinking that you should be grateful you got out of that toxic on-and-off relationship. But man, wouldn't it be nice to be with someone in this cold, cuddly weather outside?

You sighed, combing your fingers through your unstyled hair, before getting up to your bed. You thought of just taking advantage of your free time to rest in the midst of your ongoing world tour.

"I don't think I can bring this with me, Juwon."

Yoongi let out a sheepish chuckle while holding a brown bag of Tupperware filled with kimchi, braised potatoes, lettuce, rice, and marinated uncooked bulgogi. His cousin laughed.

"Not my problem, man. Mom saw one of your videos online and said you looked thinner. She wanted to make sure you're eating a lot, especially now you're in the country."

It has been more than a decade since Yoongi visited his birth country. Unlike his parents who come and go to South Korea yearly, he never got to visit since he moved to LA. When his mother learned that you would be taking your tour to Seoul, she called up every family member to let them know Yoongi was coming. Everyone was delighted to see him after a long time. His grandma even handed him an envelope money, just like when he was a little kid. Yoongi tried to decline it shyly, but his heart warmed when she told him to keep it as it was for all the Lunar New Year he missed.

"She really wanted to see you, but she and Dad are celebrating their anniversary in the UK right now," Juwon told him while they sat in one of the cafes just on the outskirts of Seoul. "She always told everyone how her nephew is a celebrity in the US."

Yoongi laughed, cheeks warming up, "I'm not a celebrity. I'm a bassist for one."

"Eh, it's the same." his cousin shrugged, making both of them laugh. "You know, a lot of YN's fans here think you two are dating."

Yoongi's jaw tenses at the mention of you. Considering that you two are barely talking right now, being tangled in such gossip with you is a little startling for him.

Juwon continued, "Like, I would scroll on social media and I would see edits of you on stage made by your fans here. There are talks about her performances and gimmicks with you on online forums."

Yoongi knows. His father even asked him once about his relationship status with you during the holidays. When he was on his way to the cafe, a young student recognized and asked him if you two are together after asking for a selfie. And he answered the same thing.

"We're not dating. I'm just her bassist."

Juwon seemed to not really care about Yoongi's relationship status with you, just wanting to share the growing popularity of the topic. They went on talking about life and everything big happening to them. Yoongi appreciated his cousin not mentioning his failed engagement or asking him personal questions about you (since that is something other people do). A couple of hours later, Juwon had to go.

"I'm taking the missus out. So, I really should go," he explained, smiling sheepishly.

Yoongi smiled before they shared a quick hug, "Of course. I'll try to visit again after the tour so I can meet everyone."

It was only afternoon and Yoongi was already on his way back to the hotel. Love is everywhere, he can feel, hear, see, and even taste it with how sweet the heart-shaped candies he sees from the street vendors. On the bus, he cannot help but feel outcasted by how everyone comes and goes in two while he sits alone in the farthest seat. He tried not to be a bitter hater about today's event. But how can he be single right now and there are middle-schoolers holding hands in front of him?

He rolled his eyes as he walked past the young couple who was walking too slow for his liking. Just a few distance from the hotel, he stopped when he got a call from someone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Yoongi. Are you in the hotel right now?" Art, who's on the other line, asked.

Yoongi continued walking, "Yeah, just arrived. Why?"

Today is meant to be their free day before flying to Thailand tomorrow. He recalls any possible reason why the tour manager would call him today.

"Yeah, uhm, can you check on YN? Callie has been trying to contact her, but she's not answering any texts or calls. She just wants to know how she's doing."

His heart dropped, making him pause near the elevators. He has not really talked with you alone these past few days. You two barely had conversations after that little argument the week after the holiday break.

Yoongi scratched his brow, "Uhm, how about Noah or Akio?"

"They are still on their way to visit Busan. Fred is out of town too," he replied.

Knowing there were no other choices, his shoulder slumped like the whole world fell on it, "Okay, I'll check on her."

"Okay, thank you, Yoongi!" Art sighed in relief. Yoongi heard Cal's relief in the background, thanking him too, "Thanks, Yoongi! Please tell her to text me back."

After saying where your room is, the call ended. Why can't you answer the calls? Yoongi tried contacting you himself when he got in the elevator. Although he knows that you might ignore him, he still tries just to avoid knocking on your door again. But you did not answer. So he got to the floor higher than his and immediately looked for your room.

He felt his heart beating faster when he stopped in front of Room 2202. Chewing on his lip, he raised his finger before the doorbell. He wished he had the same determination when he knocked on your door months ago. He held his breath when he clicked it.

But he got no response. It took him three more tries before hearing footsteps inside and by that time, he was more worried than nervous.

"What— Yoongi?"

Instantly recognizing the person who interrupted your movie marathon, your creased forehead softened up as your shoulders slowly tensed down. Yoongi didn't speak immediately, causing you to just stand there while his eyes scanned your face with lines forming between his brows. You felt like shrinking again under his gaze, wondering if other people feel the same way when your bassist looks at them.

"Were you crying?" he asked since he quickly took notice of your tear-stained cheeks, puffy eyes, and lips.

When you look away, Yoongi can read the embarrassment on your face. He thought you looked cute even though you just cried, but still he was worried by what was the reason behind it. But he didn't want to ask, to cross the line like you said that night. So he didn't.

Instead, he cleared his throat, "Art called me. He said you—"

To see you open the door wider as if you are inviting him to come in is a surprise to him. Your eyes meet, communicating with no verbal words in between. But when your sight starts moving from his eyes to his nose then to his lips. Something in your stomach twists. Before anything happened, you spoke, moving your eyes back up.

"Please, just come in. Someone might see us in the hallway."

Always careful. Yoongi stepped in with the same brown bag in his hand. He waited for you to close the door before speaking up again.

"Art called me and he wanted me to check on you. Cal is worried you were not answering her calls."

Your lips gaped as you forgot where your phone was. Since you were left alone hours ago, you spent your time watching rom-com movies, including the one you were just crying about before Yoongi knocked.

"Wait, I'll look for it."

Yoongi watched you rush to your messy bed. He still has not moved from the same spot near the door, like his feet were nailed to the ground. Not less than a minute later, you came back with your phone in hand.

"Just texted her back. I was on DND since last night, I didn't notice," you explained and why were you explaining to him? You don't know.

He didn't say anything and just looked at you blankly. What was to say anyway? You noticed him not really speaking much when you're around. You mean, Yoongi does not really speak a lot, but you observed how quieter he got when the holiday break ended. The eye contact lessened and so did the small bickering you two do in every rehearsal. It feels wrong to annoy you like before again. There are so many times you want to, but you just can't.

You were chewing on your lower lip unconsciously while looking down at the paper bag in his hand, and could not bring yourself to look up. Yoongi silently wondered what was going on inside your creative head.

"What's that?" you broke the silence, referring to the bag.

"Oh... uhm... it's food from my aunt," he replied, lifting the bag. He pulled out one of the Tupperware. "She wanted me to eat more, said I'm getting thinner."

You don't know why, but that made you chuckle. Yoongi smiled upon hearing your little laugh.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, even though it can be a risk over the line you spoke about before.

But instead of reminding him about that stupid line, you replied, "Ice cream is food, right?"

Yoongi clicked his tongue, shaking his head like you were a great disappointment. He pulled out each Tupperware one by one and placed it on the nearby marble counter.

"Have you had these foods before?" he asked and you simply shook your head. "Then, you're going to have them now."

Yoongi didn't care if he crossed that imaginary line because his mom would kill him if he didn't make you eat lunch. Heading to your kitchenette, he looked for a pan and turned on the stove.

"I will just cook the meat. Then, we'll eat this with rice and the side dishes." he explained while putting the meat on the hot surface.

"What... What should I do? Should I help? Do I have to do anything?" you asked, heavily confused.

Yoongi chuckled at your innocent questions, "You can just watch, YN."

And you did while being intrigued and amused at the same time by the unexpected scenario. Just twenty minutes ago, you were crying over Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler. But now, you have your bassist cooking before you.

Yoongi cooked all of the meat since he could not really bring it with him tomorrow. He will make sure to eat them all if you do not enjoy it anyway. There are no plates in the hotel room, so you two had to improvise and use the lids of the Tupperware as plates. It was also a relief that his aunt included chopsticks in the bag.

He noticed how your eyes lit up as he explained the side dishes, particularly the potatoes. He picked one and placed it on your 'plate'. You hummed as you tasted the sweetness on your tongue.

"I love this. So much better than room service!"

He smiled before getting you some kimchi on your plate too. That's when your expression dropped, he noticed.

"It's kimchi. Don't worry, it's good."

"What does it taste like? And how should I eat it?" you asked, staring at the very red dish.

"It's spicy and sour. It can be sweet too. Depends on who made it. But my aunt always preferred it spicier." he explained before eating some. Yeah, it's spicy. "Do you eat spicy food?"

"I like spicy foods, but this one looks really spicy. It's very red."

He laughed, "It's good. Taste it! You can eat it alone, with rice, or meat. Like this."

Yoongi pulled his chair next to yours, simply to make you a lettuce wrap like in a local Korean barbecue place. He didn't sit too close, but sensing his familiar scent once again made your heart jump as you watched him make you a lettuce wrap.

"Here. Say 'ah'." Yoongi opened his mouth demonstrating.

You tried not to smile, your head messing with you again, as you followed his order. He helped you with the lettuce wrap. Immediately after chewing it, there's a burst of flavor in your mouth. The kimchi is spicy, sour, and maybe a little salty. But you liked it.

Yoongi smiled when he saw you nodding your head, "See? It's great, right? You should really listen to me more."

You glared at him before picking up your chopsticks to eat. Eating in comfortable silence, Yoongi quietly observed how you enjoyed the meal he brought, specifically the kimchi. He was pleased to see you munching on the dishes.

"Slow down on the kimchi." he teased you at one point, but you just scrunched your nose at him.

"I should have added matching couple-shirts in my merch during the concert. I would have earned millions here."

After having your late lunch, you and Yoongi found yourselves in the same nook you were sitting at earlier today. You two sat on each corner, looking down on the noisy and busy city moving below. It felt like the events after the afterparty were forgotten for the meantime as you two chatted about 50 First Dates, the movie you were crying about, and how he preferred The Wedding Singer more. There was a debate for a whole twenty minutes about it and you were sure Yoongi just let you win, so you can move to another topic.

"Yeah, on my way here earlier, every couple who will get on the bus wears the same thing. I looked like a sore thumb." he quipped, earning another laugh from you while you took another bite of kimchi.

The side dish was almost completely consumed by you alone, much to Yoongi's surprise.

"I told you to slow down on the kimchi." he teased you again.

"But it's good. Tell your aunt it's good, send her flowers for me," you suggested.

He scoffed, "Oh, my aunt would love hearing that and will probably send you five more Tupperware of this."

"Well, sign me up. I wouldn't mind having stock." you grinned before taking the last piece of radish.

He shook his head, laughing, "And you finished it all."

You carefully placed the empty Tupperware in front of you, raising both of your hands like you were a suspect caught, "Not guilty at all."

"She would really love you." he chuckled, leaning back on the wall of the nook.

"Well, that just means she has a very great taste." you quipped, looking outside.

Mirroring Yoongi, you rested your back on the wall while still looking outside. In contrast to your full and contented stomach, your heart feels light at someone's unexpected appearance in your hotel room. You were so ready to watch movies all day and maybe call for room service for food. A small smile forms on your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi feels the same thing. Mainly, he was happy the food his aunt made did not go to waste and he got to eat it with someone, who obviously enjoyed it. He tried not to chuckle when he saw a spot of the red sauce near your lips. Before he could even stop himself, his thumb gently wiped it off your face.

You held your breath at the sudden touch with your eyes flickering to meet his. He was frozen on the spot, still in the leaned-in position. For a second, the city noise is drawn out. Until he pulled back and you noticed his cheeks have a very slight tint of red.

"Uhm... there was sauce." he mumbled.

"Hmm..." you awkwardly responded looking away.

Silence joined the room again and Yoongi felt like he had gone past the line already. He slapped his head mentally with what he did. The silence reminded him of a scenario that happened at the end of last year. As he feels it getting into him, he gets up.

"I-I should go. We have an early flight tomorrow."

You looked back at him and were always easy to read for him. But, he didn't want to assume that you wanted him to stay based on your eyes alone. But you did, you really did. Maybe for a companion for tonight? You cannot tell, but you enjoyed this casual conversation with him. You can just hope he did too.

"Okay," you replied, almost a whisper.

You watched him gather the Tupperware back into the paper bag, not moving an inch in the nook. You waited for him to look back at you before he leaves, but he was too focused on the fucking Tupperware. So, you just turned your head outside, letting out a sigh.

And just when Yoongi is about to turn the doorknob, he takes one last look at you. His shoulders depleted, seeing you alone while watching the city outside.

"YN?" he called your name and he was unsure if he saw a glimmer of something in your eyes when you turned around. "Good night."

You forced a smile on your lips, "Thank you, Yoongi. Good night."

note | a little preview for the tour's second leg too...

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